


For a Price

by AcelinWolf



Series: Vergate [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Eventual F/M/M, Eventual Romance, F/M, Genderbending, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Multi, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-10-20 21:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 77,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17630186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcelinWolf/pseuds/AcelinWolf
Summary: In order to escape life on the streets, Tavion Talmadge is selling himself at the prestigious Auction House. Being some rich jerk's pet or servant for a few years beats being preyed upon on the streets, right? Except his new Master unexpectedly offers to double his payment and shorten his contract.The price? He has to act as his Master's surrogate.





	1. Bought

****

Tavion shifted anxiously, trying not to focus on the voices on the other side of the thick, black curtain separating him from the auction. Listening made his stomach churn. He stood backstage with another man and three women, and despite that they were all gathered for the same reason, Tavion surmised that was all they had in common. Though the majority of them were young like he was, they were all of varying species. 

One of the girls was Ocreol—a race most distinguishable by their short, spotted fur and pointed ears. The woman she conversed with was spindly and sported a short set of antlers atop her head—Throqnean. The only other male present was Throqnean as well, but his antlers were much more impressive.

The third woman's species was unknown to Tavion, but that didn't surprise him. Vergate, the city they were presently in, was a port city. Though it had a large permanent population, thousands passed through every day. It was a melting pot, a clash of cultures and races from across the galaxy.

It was dangerous to ask someone their species. You never knew who would take offense. Regardless, Tavion wasn't here to make small talk, so he ignored the others—blocking out the women as they made uneasy conversation. He couldn't help but wonder what circumstances had brought them here. If they were as pathetic and desperate as he was.

"Sold to Mr. Barrera!" The auctioneer—he'd already forgotten her name—announced.

Silence fell for a moment, and Tavion suppressed the urge to shudder.

_This is really happening._

"Next, we have a young Vixol named Licina."

The now-named Vixol stiffened, large and pointed ears pinning back. Tavion noticed her russet fur bristling as the auctioneer continued to speak.

"Contracted for five years, she is accomplished in babe-rearing and keeping a clean home."

A muscular Ocreol guard peered through the curtain and signaled for the woman to come onto the stage. She did so quickly and without protest.

_Of course she did. She's here willingly. We all are._

"Let's start the bidding at 100,000 credits," the auctioneer said.

"110,000!" a voice rang out.

Tavion resumed blocking out the auction, as if that could eviscerate the dread in his chest.

He could have made a philosophical argument about why it was society's fault that he was here; he could have detailed all the circumstances (most beyond his control) that had led to him _selling himself_ to the highest bidder.

Not forever, he reminded himself. One, three, five, or ten years. Those were the terms offered, and he'd picked three years. A single year might not be enough, and although three would leave him with too much money—was there truly such a thing?—he'd rather be well off than back in this situation.

He would never be at another's mercy again.

"Sold to Mrs. Epstein!"

Tavion closed his eyes and took a breath, counting to ten.

"Now up is our first young man of the night!" the auctioneer said after a few moments, energizing the crowd.

The guard poked his head through the curtain, and Tavion took a moment to realize he was being gestured to.

It was his turn.

Hoping he hadn't visibly paled, he stepped forward, biting back the urge to snap when the guard grabbed his arm and guided him to the center of the stage. The lights were blinding, and squinting didn't help him see out into the crowd towards his would-be buyers.

Maybe that was for the best.

The auctioneer, an Ocreol woman wearing a flattering evening gown, gave him only a fleeting look before turning back to the crowd. "Looking for a three year contract, Tavion is a hard worker and a quick learner. Let's start the bidding at 100,000 credits, shall we?"

"110,000!" a man called out immediately.

Just like that, the fears Tavion had that no one would bid were dispelled. It would have been humiliating, but wasn't it far more concerning to have the bidders be _too eager_? Still, _110,000_. Just the thought of that much money made his head spin, and that was just the price he would be paid for a single year. Even if no one bid higher, he would have three times that much when his contract was over.

"110,000! Going once—"

"120,000!"

"120,000! Going once—"

"150,000," a woman called out, a strong but feminine voice.

Tavion tried not to react.

"150,000! Going once—"

"160,000!" a man shouted.

"160,000! Going once—"

"250,000," the same woman said.

The room fell silent before the auctioneer recovered. "250,000! Going once, going twice, sold! To Miss Acosa."

It took the guard tugging on his arm to shake Tavion out of his shock. _250,000_? At the end of three years, he would have nearly a million credits to his name. He would never be homeless again.

Tavion missed some unspoken signal and was jolted out of his thoughts when he was guided off stage by his arm. The guard escorted him to a private room to the right. Just as the door closed, he could hear the auctioneer begin a spiel for the next sale. Then, he was alone. A quick glance revealed the room to be barren. Was he supposed to wait here? He despised not knowing what was expected of him, which made his decision to subject himself to this even more ridiculous.

The door opened, and Tavion was stunned to find she was Avvai. He'd never met one, but he'd seen them flying around the city a few times on massive, awe-inspiring wings. This woman's wings were a soft brown, plain in color but no less magnificent for it. They made her slender frame more imposing. Like most Avvai he'd seen, her hair was the same color as her wings, and feathers of a similar shade grew intertwined in it.

"Miss Acosa?" he surmised.

That made the Avvai narrow her rich, brown eyes, and when she spoke, her thick accent accentuated her harsh tone. "Yes, but I am here on my _Liry_ 's command."

"And who is that?" he asked. Why hadn't they come themselves?

"Do not speak again unless spoken to. From now on address me as _Se_ Mykila. Understand?"

That grated on his nerves, but Tavion nodded. He was going to have to get used to this treatment. Best to start now.

"With words, _fil_. Or can you only speak when unnecessary?"

Smart enough to realize the foreign word was an insult (based on her tone), he gritted out, "Yes, _Se_ Mykila."

Mykila stared at him impassively. "Such an unpleasant _'qiy_ you are. We can only hope the Litr will not take offense."

Tavion couldn't help but scowl at being called unpleasant, though it wasn't exactly news. And who exactly was the Litr?

"Strip. Oh, be calm, _'qiy_ , and do as you're told."

He quickly closed his agape jaw, anxiety crawling in his skin, and did as ordered. Thankfully, when he got down to his undergarments, she told him to stop. Then, she circled him, inspecting with clinical eyes. It made him feel self-conscious, but he hoped she couldn't tell.

"What are these? Tattoos?"

The disapproval in her tone irritated him. "I don't know. I've had them longer than I can remember." The tribal-like markings—midnight blue—swirled over his body: arms, legs, torso. He'd always considered himself fortunate that his face was untouched by them, but he hated how the markings stood out against the arctic paleness of his skin.

Without warning, Mykila reached out to grab a lock of his cerulean hair. He jerked at the movement, but she ignored him. After a moment, she made a thoughtful sound, ordered him to, "Wait here," and left the room.

Tavion would be lying if he said running hadn't occurred to him. Breaking a contract like the one he'd signed had terrible repercussions, but he could slip onto a ship and flee to anywhere in the galaxy. _For the right price._ Of course, he had no money to bargain with, and even if he escaped, he would be as homeless there as he was here.

Trying to ignore the chill on his bare flesh, he waited.

Minutes passed before she returned, and he immediately noticed what she held in her hand—a golden collar and a golden bangle. In the split second before she fastened the chilled collar around his neck, he caught a glimpse of the symbol etched into it, and his heart plummeted when he recognized it.

The mark of the Salas Dynasty—an unmistakable pair of golden wings with a star overhead. It was a symbol of one of the most influential Avvai families in existence. They owned most of the ports in Vergate, and they had an extensive property on the edge of the city. Tavion had no idea how often it was occupied or who stayed there when it was. Would he be taken to that property or would he be shipped off to Tabiri, their home planet? He hadn't counted on being taken off of Yioter, but the contract had no stipulations against it.

While he stood frozen, Mykila took his left hand and fit the bangle on his wrist. The metal was cold against his bare flesh, but he figured she wouldn't appreciate him asking if he could put his clothes back on. She didn't seem _fond_ of questions.

"You belong to _Litr_ Jormaine Salas now," Mykila said, wings pulled tightly to her back.

Tavion felt his brain come to a screeching halt, but the Avvai continued speaking, ignorant to his plight.

"Adorn your clothes. We depart immediately. The _Liry_ and _Litr_ do not accept anything less than punctuality."

He had been purchased for the head of the Salas Dynasty.

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	2. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things escalate. [M] for mature!

As tempting as running was, he knew better than to try. He’d signed a magically binding contract before he’d ever been purchased. That was why the Auction House was so favored. They could ensure their contracts were honored, minimizing the risk of financial loss. Not only had the contract stipulated that he couldn’t run, it also guaranteed that he couldn't harm his masters (unless he was acting in self-defense) and that he would attempt to obey them to the best of his ability. 

Tavion didn’t wish to find out what would happen if he tried to break the contract. 

Mykila took him to the Salas Estate in Vergate. _Not_ offworld. That, at least, was something to be thankful for. He was driven there by a nameless chauffeur while Mykila flew. She didn't say anything more to him once they left the Auction House. She merely took flight with a single, powerful beat of her wings. Though he didn't particularly like her, he had to admit it was a sight to behold. 

She was waiting beside another Avvai woman when he stepped out of the vehicle, and if Mykila’s wings were impressive, this woman’s were breathtaking. Emerald green feathers, darkest near the arches, faded into teal and then aquamarine at the tips. Gems of sapphire and emerald hung from the aches of her wings, intertwined between her feathers. The stones matched those on the golden hand-chain-bracelets that adorned the backs of her hands. Her jade lace dress, intricately patterned, was clearly designed with her wings in mind, allowing them to be proudly displayed. Her hair, unlike Mykila's, did not match her wings. Rather, it was a silken honey color, warm and radiant. 

_“Ro e ‘qiy?”_ she asked Mykila with her malachite eyes fastened upon Tavion. Behind her, her emerald wings were unnaturally still—not a single feather out of place. 

_“Yi, Liry_ Salas.”

Tavion didn’t catch _Liry_ Salas’ reply. He was too busy staring at the Avvai who had been revealed to be Jormaine’s spouse. 

A sharp word caught his attention, and he met _Liry_ Salas’ narrowed eyes. “You will serve my husband. His _every_ need. Do you understand?” 

Dread knotted in his chest, questions flitting through his mind. _Is she insinuating—?_ “Yes, _Liry_ Salas,” he said, assuming that was the title to address her by.

Her eyes were penetrating, as if she was uncovering his every secret at a glance. “You were permitted to bring your possessions with you, were you not?”

Tavion refused to let her make him feel inferior for his lack of materials or his torn clothes. “Yeah,” he replied without explaining that he owned nothing of value. 

She made an indecipherable sound. “These clothes are inadequate.”

“Well, I don't have any others,” he snapped, realizing too late that it was a poor idea to be so combatant. 

To his surprise, she didn't lecture him on his tone. “We will rectify that immediately.”

Though Tavion knew his _owners_ had a right to dress him as they desired (perhaps he should let them, if only to get the things he couldn't otherwise afford), accepting charity was difficult.

“Not necessary, _Liry_ Salas.” 

“ _That's_ not necessary,” she corrected without hesitation. “Do not clip words from your sentences.”

Tavion wasn't expecting that either. “Yes, _Liry_ Salas.” Why should she care how he spoke? Was it because his behavior now reflected upon them? 

“You cannot be without basic necessities,” she continued. “We will buy them for you.” 

“I—” he started to say but stopped. _Liry_ Salas wasn't allowing room for argument—and he wasn't looking to anger the lady of the house this soon—so what could he do but agree? “Thank you,” he said lamely. 

“You’re welcome.” She looked to Mykila. “Show him where he will be staying,” she said. 

_“Yi, Liry Salas.”_

Mykila gestured for him to follow, so he put the odd interaction out of his mind and did. The manor was inarguably beautiful, but his mind was too busy rushing with questions and fears to take in the details. It was a blur of polished floors and brightly lit hallways. 

Eventually, they stopped at a pair of double wooden doors, and Mykila turned to him, her wings flaring slightly as she did. “This is it.” Then, she slid them open and showed him inside. 

He hadn't been expecting more than one room, so he momentarily froze in astonishment. To his left was a door that led into a private bathroom. The rest of it was an open floor plan, but each area was clearly distinguished from one another. There was a dining area, a study, and a bedroom with a mattress large enough to… _Large enough to fit wings_ , his mind supplied. 

“This is _Litr_ Salas’ private rooms. He does not sleep here, but a bedroom has been set up for you. Go through that way. A servant will assist you.”

 _Assist me? With what?_ He didn't ask because she had already closed the doors and left. So he headed towards the bathroom, as directed, and found two Avvai. Both were female and looked around his age, if such could be gauged on appearance alone.

The one with dusty grey wings spoke, her accent thick and her Common broke. “Wash first,” she said, gesturing to the pool-like bath that was filling with water. Steam whisped across the surface, and a floral scent saturated the room. As he stood there, he tried not to wonder how long it had been since he'd last had a hot bath. 

“In,” the second woman insisted. Her right wing, Tavion noticed suddenly, was being held awkwardly. As if something wasn't quite right with it. He tried not to stare, aware that she wouldn't believe he merely found their aqua coloring captivating. There was little sense in alienating the staff of the household if he was to live here for three years. 

Then, he registered her words. Since he had no desire to undress for a crowd, he asked, “Can you turn around?” 

The grey-winged woman only stared at him until the aqua-winged one said something in their native tongue. Then, the grey-winged woman looked surprised, and they both looked away.

He took the provided opportunity and undressed, discarding his clothes and hurrying into the heat of the bathing pool. When he looked, he found the servants had opened their eyes again and one was carrying his clothes away. 

“Hey!” he protested, fear racing up his spine. Did they expect him to remain naked?

His protest was ignored, and the aqua-winged woman came forth with a basket of what looked to be soaps and oils. 

“We will help you,” she said. Her accent was less thick than the other woman's. Something Tavion was grateful for. 

“Do you have to?” He would rather they didn't but didn't wish to get them in trouble. If this was their job, they would be professional about it, right? _How many times have they done this?_ he couldn't help but wonder. Was he just an insignificant number in a long line of slaves purchased for _Litr_ Salas?

“Yes,” the aqua-winged Avvai said. 

Tavion really didn't want to acquiesce, but was sparing his modesty worth an argument on his first day here? “Fine.”

That was a mistake because they were upon him in moments, using cups to wet his hair. Now saturated, it hung over his eyes, obscuring his view as one of them began to scrub at his neck and shoulders. Then, hands began to lather soap into his hair. 

It was the weirdest experience of his life, and it didn't end there.

When they were done, as he stood in only a towel, they worked some sort of warm oil into his skin—its smell unlike anything he'd ever scented. It reminded him of winter covered berries. Next, his nails were tended to—clipped, filled, and painted with a clear coating so they didn't lose their ivory-blue coloration. 

_Finally_ , clothes were brought in by another servant, but before he could put them on, Aqua-Wings brought out scissors and reached for his hair. 

“No, thanks,” he said, pulling away. 

“Must cut,” she replied, looking a little flustered at his refusal. “There is, how you say, deceased ends.”

It didn't take further arguing for Tavion realized he wasn't going to be allowed to dress unless he let her do it. So, he did, cautious not to let her clip off too much. When she was done, she ran a comb through his hair (without asking) before finally gesturing to the clothes. 

Thankfully, they left the bathroom so he could dress in solitude. The style was undoubtedly Avvai, but he figured he could manage. He found undergarments and pants...but no socks or shirt. That was worrisome, but what could he do? This was what he'd been given. He didn't want to offend, but at what point should he vocalize his discomfort? Should he keep waiting for permission to speak up?

He decided he would ask about getting a shirt. The worst that could happen was he would be told no. 

Tavion pulled on the dark blue pants after adjusting his undergarment. Loose and comfortable, the pants were also surprisingly warm. He couldn't identify the material they were made of, but it was delightfully soft. Probably the softest thing he could remember owning—or did his masters own them as they did him? 

He took a breath and reminded himself why he'd chosen this. Then, he turned to the mirror and was surprised by how much better he looked. Though he was still far too thin, he no longer looked like he lived on the streets. It was amazing what a bath and new clothes could accomplish. 

Deciding he’d delayed long enough, he exited the bathroom and found Mykila waiting for him in the middle of the chamber. 

“ _Se_ Mykila,” he greeted. 

Without returning the greeting, she pointed to the bed. “You will wait there. Always.”

“In the bed?” he asked, scarcely containing his unease.

“Of course not. Unless you’re invited. Until then, you will wait beside it.” She gestured for him to do so now. 

Hoping he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt, he did, and then he looked to her questioningly. 

“On your knees.” 

Tavion felt himself blush, and, biting back a protest, lowered himself to the ground.

Mykila came to stand in front of him, arms behind her back. “You will wait here until you are given orders to do otherwise. If you must use the bathroom, do so quickly. You will be brought meals twice a day, and you’re expected to bath every morning. Is any of this unclear?”

She narrowed her eyes, and he realized she was waiting for a response. 

“No, _Se_ Mykila,” he said quickly. 

Then, before he could overcome his unease enough to ask questions—such as if he could have a shirt because the chamber was quite chilled—Mykila promptly left.

Suddenly, Tavion was alone.

Kneeling on the floor. 

Confined to the bedroom. 

Tavion didn't have to ask to know what the latter meant. 

 

His knees ached after less than twenty minutes, and the cold was starting to seep into his bones. This was, he decided, worse than what he imagined his fate would be. It was so incredibly boring. He hadn’t known boredom could be so painful. His brain was practically screaming for stimulation. 

Even while homeless, he'd been consistently busy. It took an active mind to secure shelter, find food, and avoid the dangers of the streets. It hadn't been fun—and many days had been fraught with life-and-death danger—but it had put his wits to good use. 

His wits were all he’d ever had, and when he was younger, he'd invented scenarios about how they would drag him out of poverty. His intelligence, his brilliance, would be recognized, and he could finally make his mother and father proud—

The ignorant dreams of a child desperate for approval and starving for affection.

The boredom eventually overcame him, and Tavion succumbed to sleep. 

 

He awoke to the bounding of his heart, and it took him a moment to decipher why. The doors to the chamber had opened, flooding him with adrenaline. Tavion was awake in an instant, pushing himself back to his knees. 

_This is it. I'm going to meet Litr Salas._

This interaction would define the three years to come. 

The doors opened and—

One of the servants from earlier (or yesterday, he supposed) smiled and entered the room, carrying a tray of food. Without a word, she set it down on the table in the designated dining area and left. 

Tavion didn't know if he should feel disappointed or relieved. 

 

It became the new routine. For three days, he was brought food twice a day—generous meals that left him satisfied for many hours—and in the mornings, he bathed as directed and found fresh clothes waiting for him. In between those times, he knelt beside the bed, but he never saw _Litr_ or _Liry_ Salas. He saw no one except the servants who did not attempt to speak with him.

_Should you really be complaining? If this is all you have to do, be grateful._

Except he wasn't grateful. Far from it; he was irked. His knees hurt—enough so that he risked punishment by standing and stretching now and again—and he was being driven mad by boredom. With nothing to occupy his mind, he was left alone with his demons. 

_That_ was the worst part. Being left with nothing but his own mind for company. If this was some sort of ploy to break him down, it was working. 

Now, there was a thought. Maybe they were doing this on purpose. He wasn't the first idiot the Salas family ever bought, surely. They had to know what they were doing.  
Though he had nothing else to do, he was poorly rested, too tense to sleep soundly through the night. 

On the fifth day, he abandoned all reason. Now that he was certain of the servants’ schedule (they cleaned the chamber every other day, dusting and sweeping and scrubbing around him), he stood and began to explore the suite cautiously. 

He was immediately drawn to the bookcase, gently tracing a finger down the spine of a particularly thick book. He couldn't read a majority of the titles because they weren't in Common, but a few were. _Disruption of the Solstice_ and _Confessions of Adoration_ stood out—literary classics. Unfamiliar titles such as _Crime and Punishment_ were littered amongst the same shelf, so he assumed they were also fiction of sorts. 

After a few moments of silence, his heart beating wildly in his chest, he took a book off the shelf and returned to the bedside. There, he cracked it open and began to read, reasoning that he could hide it beneath the bed if someone walked in. 

Surely the servants wouldn't notice one book had gone missing? 

Tavion hadn't had the luxury of reading for hours on end in a long time. He'd forgotten how quickly time could pass when immersed in a fictitious world's problems, feeling their plights. 

It was almost enough to make him forget his own. 

Whenever the servants entered—given away by the sound of footsteps approaching the doors—he hid the book and pretended to be waiting dutifully. Then, as soon as they left, he pulled it back out and read while he ate that day's meal. 

The next morning, he woke to the usual sounds of footsteps at the doorway. Realizing he had fallen asleep with the book as a pillow. He quickly closed it, shoved it under the bed, and pushed himself to his knees. 

It was then he realized what was different: the servants never chatted when they came into the chamber. As if trained to operate that way, they scurried from room to room, determined to remain unnoticed by their occupants. 

Two strangers entered, talking to each other in that familiar-sounding foreign tongue. One of the men was unknown to Tavion, but he recognized the other right away. 

_Litr_ Salas.

Tavion felt his pulse quicken from fear. Here was one of the city's most powerful men. Nay. One of this _planet’s_ most powerful men. 

He looked too ethereal to be real. Massive, golden-hued wings were but one of his many impressive attributes. He was tall with skin and hair that echoed the color of his feathers—golden-brown. Tavion was willing to bet the man's eyes were the same color, but it was impossible to be sure because he hadn't so much as glanced at him.

He and his companion, an elderly Avvain with wings as dark as a cloudy night, entered and walked to a desk Tavion had not dared investigate. As they talked, _Litr_ Salas plucked a packet of papers off of his desk, began to scan them, and then—

And then they both turned to leave. 

Still conversing. 

Still ignoring Tavion. 

Fear turned to humiliation, and where there should have been relief, there was only wild indignation.

He had been waiting _on his knees_ —for _days_ —and his new lord couldn't so much as _look_ at him? 

Frustration had simmered inside of him for far too long. It was now brimming, overflowing until it snapped out of him like a whip. “If I’m not to be a bedslave, may I move?” 

_Litr_ Salas halted, and the man beside him cringed, as if anticipating an oncoming onslaught. Then, the Salas lord slowly turned to face him. His eyes, burning liquid gold, made Tavion’s heart stutter. 

“Leave us.”

The dark-winged Avvai bowed his head and did as commanded. 

When the door clicked closed, the lord of the manor only stared at him, sunbeam wings pulled tightly to his back. “Did you just insinuate that I pay for bedmates in front of an esteemed ally?” 

His voice was dangerously soft, and Tavion knew he was breaths away from an agonizing death. Could this Avvai legally kill him? Would he care if he wasn't allowed?  
Despite his fear, his mind couldn't help but notice— _he does have golden eyes._

Breath caught in his throat, he averted his gaze, hoping that would be an adequate response. Golden wings one more came into view, accompanied by slow footsteps. Tavion had time to notice that the feathers weren’t as monochrome as they appeared; they faded from goldenrod to white-gold at the tips. 

A laugh jerked Tavion back to the present, jolted by the amused sound. 

The Avvai spread his wings, as if welcoming the admiration. “Enthralled, are we?”

Tavion was embarrassed to be read so easily, but chagrin turned to defensive anger. “Someone thinks highly of themselves,” he said hotly. 

He scarcely had time to flinch before he was slammed facefirst into the closest wall. Though his every instinct screamed at him to fight, he dared not. 

“I choose every creature I purchase with absolute precision. I’ve built an Empire upon doing so. Let me make this clear, boy, _I did not purchase you._ ”

Just like that, his wrists were released, and _Litr_ Salas stepped away from him. 

Tavion whipped around, wounded and instinctively wanting to lash out to return the favor. He wanted to insist he wasn't a boy, but that response seemed childish. Instead, he said, “Your _wife_ did. So, clearly she knows something you don’t.”

Probably not. Maybe she gave Mykila orders to buy the first man she saw as a present for her husband. Point was, Tavion didn't know, and he was betting _Litr_ Salas didn't either.

Gilden eyes flashed with an indecipherable emotion. “Oh?” he inquired dangerously. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I should properly _sample_ my wife’s find.” 

Nothing good had ever happened to him when a man looked at him as the Avvai lord was looking at him now. Terror finally restored his sense. “ _Litr_ Salas—” 

“No, no. That won't do at all,” _Litr_ Salas replied. “My bedmates have always called me Jormaine or master.”

A shiver—of fear? Of anticipation? Was it revulsion?—raced down Tavion's spine at the declaration, and when _Jormaine_ took a step forward, Tavion took a step back. Too late he realized that he'd backed up into the wall. 

Jormaine laughed like a predator who'd cornered their catch. When they were only inches apart, golden wings encircled him, shielding him from the light and ensuring all Tavion could see was the Avvai lord. “Did you come looking for a master, Tavion?” 

Anger rose in his chest at the suggestion. “You don't know anything about me,” he snapped.

“Don't I?” Jormaine replied. “Tavion Talmadge. Twenty years old. Orphan, you proclaim, but it appears both of your parents are still alive. You refused to submit to a DNA profiling but listed yourself as Starren.”

Yes, he had adamantly refused the DNA test despite that it could have raised his selling price. Tavion had been taught to hide part of his heritage by his mother. Starrens were descended from Terrans. Most had intermingled and interbred many times over, so Starren was now used to describe those whose ancestors came from Terra. 

It was also an interchangeable, derogatory term for the mixed-breeds of the galaxy. Of which Tavion was definitely one. His father was Starren, but his mother was not. 

“So you read my file and did some research.” Tavion gave a shrug, trying to appear unbothered. Meanwhile, adrenaline rushed through his body like a wildfire. Jormaine had him physically trapped, wings blocking his only escape route. He should have been overcome with terror, but instead he found himself preoccupied with Jormaine's alluring scent—of expensive cologne with a whisper of what Tavion imagined the sky might smell like. As close as they were, Jormaine’s scent was as overpowering as his presence. 

Worse still, the golden wings—the ones that had him trapped—occasionally brushed against his bare skin, like the caress of a breeze. 

A very warm breeze.

Without warning, Jormaine lifted a hand, and Tavion jerked back, banging his head against the wall. He realized too late that the Avvai lord had not intended to strike him, and now he looked like an idiot. 

Wincing at the pain, he opened his eyes and found Jormaine looking as if he'd found an enigma. 

Thankfully, the Avvai didn't comment, but what he said next was almost worse. “I know you, Tavion, because I know how people work. I'm guessing you're a runaway; you fled from home before you turned of age. You figured that life on the streets would be better than living under your parents’ roof. Which brings us to the present.”

Tavion wanted to deny it, but his tongue wouldn't work. His mouth had gone dry, and the way Jormaine’s wing feathers whispered across his skin was clearly an underhanded tactic meant to throw his brain and hormones into conflict with each other. 

“In my experience, only three types of creatures sell themselves: the desperate, the foolish, and those seeking to be owned.” Jormaine leaned in, nearly chest to chest with Tavion now. Golden feathers were still brushing against his bare skin. “Do you desire to be owned, _srelir_?” 

Was this a game? Did _Litr_ Salas want him to be honest? Because Tavion wasn't sure what the truth was. Heat pooled in his gut, but certainly that was just a natural, physical response. Anyone would be aroused being this close to such a captivating, handsome man. 

Without waiting for a response, as if testing the waters, Jormaine wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck. His touch was hot, like a caress of the sun, and Tavion wanted to _bask in it_. Although he had no doubt that Jormaine could snap his neck, he did not feel as if he was in danger. 

Something was definitely wrong with him. 

Wordlessly, Jormaine began to maneuver him, turning him to face the wall, and Tavion just _let_ him. 

Hands moved down his waist and, in one swift motion, tugged his pants and undergarment down to expose his intimate flesh to the chilled chamber air. There was but a second between that and when a manicured hand traced the length of his member. 

Tavion took a sharp breath. He’d been mentally preparing himself for this moment since Liry Salas told him he would serve her husband in every way. He simply hadn’t considered his body and mind would be so willing. 

It had been so long since another had touched him in a _pleasurable_ way. 

There were plenty of predators on the streets, and although he knew someone might purchase him for this purpose, at least it had been _his choice_. No one was pinning him to the wall of an alley and—

He shuddered and instead focused on the hand teasing him.

Without warning, a finger penetrated him, harsh and dry. He gasped in pain and tried to wiggle away, but Jormaine easily held him in place. 

“So eager to goad me, but as soon as I take you seriously, you want to retreat?” Despite his words, he withdrew his finger. “I think not, Tavion.” 

Feathers brushed his lower back, making him shiver involuntarily. Only then did Jormaine shout towards the door. “Esme!” 

Tavion looked over his shoulder to watch as the aqua-winged Avvai came into the room and bowed. _“Yi, Liry Salas?”_

The urge to cover up was strong, humiliation making his cheeks burn, but Esme did not so much as glance at him. Was this a situation Esme was used to seeing? Was Tavion just one in a long line of servants bought for Jormaine’s pleasure? 

Not that it mattered. He had no illusions about what this was—a purely physical encounter. 

Jormaine gave her a command in his native tongue, and Esme bowed, turned, and fled.

Tavion wasn’t sure how much time had passed but she eventually returned and handed the Avvai lord a bottle of a thick, clear substance.

“That will be all, Esme. Ensure I’m not disturbed.”

Esme bowed once more before hurrying from the chamber, and they were alone once more. 

The sudden sound of glass shattering made him flinch. He realized that Jormaine had tossed the bottle away a second before a blunt pressure paused at his entrance. Panic made his heart gallop in his chest, made his breath catch in his throat. Anticipating pain, he tensed, but Jormaine wasn’t playing fair; he reached around, took Tavion in hand, and began to stroke him slowly. The firmer grip combined with the silky softness of the Avvai lord’s hand made Tavion groan. 

“Have you done this before, _srelir_?”

Tavion didn’t know what the right answer was, so he opted for honesty. “Yes,” he replied curtly. 

“Yes, _what_?”

The sharp tone was like the lash of a whip, and Tavion scrambled to find the right answer. Then, it came to him, and although the words made his belly burn with shame, he corrected himself. “Yes, master.” 

Jormaine didn’t reply, but because he resumed stroking, Tavion assumed he was satisfied. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the Avvai lord began to nudge his legs apart, granting him better access. Then, he leaned in, hands on his hips. “There are strict rules and consequences in my home. I must punish you for disrespecting me in front of company, _srelir_. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Tavion breathed out, surprised to find it wasn't entirely a lie. After a moment, he quickly added, “Master.”

All stroking ceased. “Then, ask me to punish you.”

Tavion’s mind came to a screeching halt, utterly humiliated by the demand. Yet he couldn't deny his intrigue. Especially when his member twitched in Jormaine's still hand. 

Was he _supposed_ to be enjoying this? He was way out of his depth. It was as if his body was a playground the Avvai lord was already intimately familiar with.

This command was harder to fulfill, but arousal overrode shame in the end. “Please, master, punish me as you see fit.” 

“Very good.”

Tavion realized what Jormaine intended a moment too late and bit his lip when the Avvai thrust into him, breaching his unprepared entrance and sheathing himself down to the hilt. 

Jormaine let out a content sound. “Good, _srelir_.” 

Tavion chewed his lip and tried to focus on breathing—struggling with the contradictory agony and desire that fought for dominion over his body.

“Beg me to use you as I please—” Jormaine murmured to him. “—and when I’m done, you’ll thank me for the privilege.” 

The arrogance, the command—Tavion hated how his body responded to it. Resented it and embraced it all at once.

It was... _liberating._

Without giving him a chance to reply, Jormaine traced his shaft, as if enticing his compliance. 

Tavion decided he didn’t wish to wait until the Avvai resorted to less pleasurable means of persuasion. Besides, the point of this all was to give Jormaine what he wanted. If he desired a submissive, slavish bedmate, that’s what he’d get. 

_As if you’re not enjoying it too._

“Please use me as you wish, master.” He muttered the words in a hurry just to get them out. 

“I ought to make you enunciate properly, but I really don’t have the desire to conduct a lesson just now.” 

Then, Jormaine began to move, nearly withdrawing completely before he thrust back. It wasn't gentle, and Tavion wouldn't have it any other way. Over and over, Jormaine rutted into him. At first, Tavion had to clench his jaw against the pain, but it lessened with time until it was tolerable—impossible to tell the difference between the painful and pleasurable burn.

There was irony in that, but Tavion was too lost in lust to contemplate it. 

“Is this how you imagined you'd serve?” Jormaine purred into his ear, thrusts unfaltering.

It _was_ , but Tavion refused to admit that. Instead, he gritted out, “I imagined you’d be better.” Within a heartbeat, he regretted his remark; he had to be insane to goad this powerful Avvai while he was _inside of him._

Shockingly, Jormaine only chuckled. “Like this?” The angle of his thrusts changed, bringing intense waves of pleasure.

Tavion groaned, legs quivering and spreading, desperate for more. He’d never felt _anything_ like it. He needed _more_ , but he couldn’t even meet the thrusts because Jormaine was holding him steady, using his body as if it were nothing more than a means to an end. 

It was as breathtakingly intoxicating as it was frustrating. 

Without thinking, he tried to take himself in hand, but Jormaine roughly grabbed his wrist, stopping him. All the while, he continued thrusting. Tavion heard himself whimper, but he hadn’t the presence of mind to be ashamed. He was burning with the need for release and—

Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, he reached his peak with gasping, shuddering breaths. He knew that if Jormaine hadn’t been holding him in place, his knees would have given out. As pulses of pleasure washed through him, he went limp. 

Jormaine said nothing but effortlessly continued to hold him in place, fucking him with leisure now. There were no more remarks, no more teasing. Just the sound of flesh on flesh as Jormaine pounded into him, manicured nails bruising the skin on Tavion’s hips.

Every sensation felt intensified. He tried not to squirm, but he must have failed because Jormaine gave a breathless laugh and changed his pace. Within moments, he reached completion, flooding Tavion with hot seed.

Tavion momentarily stiffened when a finger caressed his back. He suspected Jormaine was tracing one of his markings, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

When he was fully spent, Jormaine withdrew, and only then did Tavion sink to his knees as he was released. Just like that the moment was over, and it struck him that he was very naked. All too aware that Jormaine was behind him, he remained facing the wall, sparing his modesty. 

“Perhaps my wife found a treasure after all.” 

Tavion didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. 

Thankfully, Jormaine didn’t wait for a reply. “Get cleaned up.” 

He looked away and didn’t move until the doors to the chambers closed and Jormaine’s footsteps disappeared.


	3. Bargain

Tavion's efforts not to think about what had just transpired was a losing battle. The evidence of it was all over his body: the aching, finger-shaped bruises on his hips, the stickiness between his legs, the lingering pain in such an intimate place. It was impossible not to dwell, and each time his thoughts turned to Jormaine’s voice—his touch—arousal stirred in his gut and was quickly followed by shame. It felt wrong to have enjoyed being servile, being _mastered_ , when he prided himself on his independence. 

_Stop_ , he scolded himself. _It was a choice, and there's no shame in that._

It all came down to choice. He had _chosen_ to sell himself, knowing sex might be part of the deal. The alternative was to continue living on the streets, and after what had happened there, that was simply unacceptable. 

Even the unknown was preferable to that. 

Tavion soaked and scrubbed every inch of his skin, ensuring the standards the servants had set were upheld. He took care to untangle his freshly washed hair and brush his teeth before emerging from the bathroom. 

Immediately, he was startled to find Esme waiting for him. He pulled the towel tightly around himself and stared at her suspiciously, careful to avoid staring at her twisted wing. 

She held out a bundle of clothes. “The _Litr_ wishes to speak with you. Step outside when done please.” 

He watched her go, anxious at the news she'd delivered. Except, he'd already let Jormaine fuck him against a wall. What was he afraid of that hadn't already happened? If that was the worst of what was to come, the next three years wouldn't be the hardship he'd expected. 

_Hardship? You_ enjoyed _it._

Tavion preferred not to lie to himself. In a world of thieves and liars, he was the only one he could trust. He'd vowed to always be honest with himself, so he resisted the urge to deny the truth now.

He had enjoyed being at Jormaine's mercy. More than enjoyed, really. He'd thrived on it. 

What did that say about him? How could he have the audacity to complain about the abuse he'd suffered on the streets when he'd willingly subjected himself to such treatment now?

No, that wasn't a fair comparison. He hadn't asked for what had happened, hadn't been expecting it. Jormaine’s advances, on the other hand, were far from an unwanted surprise. 

Tavion took a breath, and as he began to dress, he noticed that the room had been cleaned. Likely by Esme, he thought, trying not to dwell on the embarrassment that thought caused. As he pulled on a newly provided tunic—soft and loose-fitting—he laughed at the thought that all he had to do to earn it was bend over. Well, not even that really, he mused wryly, as Jormaine hadn’t required that position to make use of him. 

Dismissing the self-abasing thoughts, he fiddled with the golden bangle around his wrist and then traced the matching collar at his neck. There were no more reasons to delay, but he needed a moment to collect himself. He wondered how long it would be before Esme came in to check on him. 

For a moment, he debated retrieving the book from under the bed and putting it back. He didn’t know how Jormaine would feel if he found out he’d been meddling with his belongings. Tavion could admit with ease that he knew next to nothing about the man that held his leash. The past few days had been quiet, and less than an hour ago, he’d been thrown into an unexplained game with a master he’d just met. 

Feeling he was as composed as he could be, he opened the doors and found Esme waiting dutifully. 

She straightened and smiled. “This way.” 

Despite her friendly demeanor, he wondered if she was thinking about the compromising position she'd found him in earlier...or the mess she’d cleaned up afterwards. He didn’t envy her job, but he envied her composure. Then again, maybe it was the hundredth time she’d done this. What did he know? 

Esme led him down the ridiculously wide hallway, but Tavion supposed wings made the space necessary. That thought sparked his interest, and his eyes scanned the intricate carvings of the arches that they passed. The ceilings were high and no less fantastic. It was impossible to say where architecture ended and art began. Had this entire home been carved and designed by an artist? 

Down a staircase and through another wide hallway—this one lined with vast windows. Early afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass, carpeting the polished floor. They turned to the right, entering an open room that was clearly intended for dining. 

_Litr_ Salas sat upon a chair with a low back, allowing plentiful room for his wings. Even sitting, his feathertips did not trace the ground.

Jormaine looked up at their entrance, sipping a hot drink as be gestured Esme away. 

“ _Litr_ Salas.” She placed her hands together, bowed shallowly, and backed out of the room. 

“Master,” he greeted when he reached the table, docile as was desired. As an afterthought, he lowered his head. 

The Avvai looked at him appraisingly. “Outside of my chambers, you need not call me that. The games we play in the bedroom will remain there. Out here, you may call me Jormaine.”

Tavion had no idea what that meant, but he supposed that's what this meeting was about. If all went well he’d leave with insight into what was expected of him during his stay here. 

“Have a seat.” 

As Tavion did, a servant entered the room, carrying a platter of food. Just the sight of it made Tavion’s stomach grumble with hunger. 

“Will that be all, _Litr_ Salas?” the man asked as he set the platter down. 

“Yes,” Jormaine said, dismissing the servant and returning his gaze to Tavion. “Eat.” 

For the first time since arriving, Tavion had a choice for a meal, and what a choice it was. When was the last time he’d seen so many different, fresh options presented in a single setting? He didn't care why it was being offered; he picked up a piece of fruit and savored every sweet bite. 

“Tell me, how long did you live on the streets?”

Tavion took his time chewing to give himself a moment to decide if he would answer. “Why not ask whoever you hired to investigate me?” 

“Because I'm asking you.” 

Hating that he didn't know why Jormaine was inquiring, Tavion nonetheless said, “Since I was sixteen.”

Jormaine didn’t look surprised. “You lived on the streets for four years and only now decided to partake in the auction. Why?”

There was no way Tavion was going to answer that. His reasons were his own. “You just want to discover why your wife chose me,” he said hotly. 

Jormaine gave a breathless laugh. “Oh, Tavion, if I hadn't already known, I would have figured that out within moments of meeting you. No. I'm merely getting to know you so I can decide if I wish to offer you a lucrative bonus to your contract—should you be willing to do something for us in return.”

Tavion didn't need a bonus; he would make enough with the contract he'd signed to start anew. Still, more money meant he would be even further from life on the streets--life on the move. Greed was foreign to him, and ambition was a distant stranger. Security, however, was something he’d always craved because he’d always been denied it. 

“Yeah? And what do you _want_?”

“All in good time.”

Tavion huffed but could do nothing about Jormaine's ambiguity. He picked up a flatbread with a creamy topping and sampled it, waiting for the interrogation to continue. There was no telling when he’d be offered another plethora of foods, so he would make the most of it. 

“You signed the contract for money, did you not?”

 _Doesn't everyone?_ Instead of saying that, Tavion gave Jormaine an innocent look and batted his eyes. “I thought I signed it to look for a master?” 

Jormaine didn't acknowledge his impertinence. “Your parents still live, and you sold yourself rather than turn to them for help.”

Tavion fought not to show discomfort at being so openly analyzed. “So what? Plenty of people don't get along with their family. Don't see why it matters, so can we drop it?” 

The slightest tilt of the head. “This subject upsets you.”

That Jormaine seemed surprised by his reaction irritated him further. “It would upset anyone to be scrutinized by an entitled posh!” he snapped. 

That got a reaction. Jormaine’s wings spread to half-mast. Power, like a living and tangible thing, filled the room, making it hard to breathe for a moment. It was like being assaulted by the sun, and Tavion had to force himself not to look away. Just what sort of power did this Avvai have? Tavion was nervous to find out, but he refused to back down. It wouldn’t be the first bad decision he’d made today—or even in the last hour, really. 

“I am not your enemy, Tavion. Do not make me one.”

That only stoked the coals of his anger. “ _Don't_ threaten me!”

Jormaine's reply was lethally swift. “If and when I threaten you, you will know it.” 

Then, suddenly, the power retreated, and Tavion could breathe easily again. He hadn't realized how nervous he'd been until it was gone. 

“You're a feral little thing. Spitting and clawing at the slightest provocation, but it's all for show,” Jormaine said, golden eyes shrewd. “Don't worry. We will break you of that habit—teach you control.”

 _We?_ Tavion hid his confusion behind a glare, uncomfortable with the assessment because, well, it wasn’t wrong, was it? 

“Since you don't desire to mince words, I'll speak plainly. My wife is infertile, and we require a surrogate. Not just anyone will do, of course, and this is a delicate matter. Thus, I gave her free reign to choose whom she desired—with a few stipulations of my own. She chose you.”

Tavion stared. Then, he burst out laughing. “Someone should have explained Starren biology to her.”

“It's not your Starren heritage we are interested in.”

Tavion furrowed his brows, confused by Jormaine's serious expression. He was joking, wasn't he?

Jormaine looked momentarily nonplussed, and then he recovered enough to say, “You're not familiar with that part of your lineage, are you?”

He didn't like having his ignorance commented upon, and although he had no lost love for his mother, he still felt the urge to defend her. “My mum would have told me if it mattered.”

“To my understanding, your mother doesn't share your unique traits.”

Though Jormaine had already revealed he'd had Tavion investigated, Tavion bristled at the reminder. He also didn’t like the implication of Jormaine’s words. “I wasn't adopted, if that's what you're implying.” Of course, the Avvai’s sources would have told him that. He'd know there was no paperwork for an adoption. “Not that it's any of your business.”

His mother had a way to disguise herself, which was a secret he’d kept to this day. A charmed necklace she wore at all times granted her a passable Starren appearance. When Tavion was old enough, she explained to him why he should never take his own off. 

“Our kind is not well received here,” she'd said. 

A lie, he'd learned when his necklace had been stolen just over a year ago. The glamour charm had vanished with it, surprising his attacker, but once the man had taken it, he had left. He hadn't called Tavion a racist name or otherwise commented on his heritage. In fact, it hadn't seemed like the man even _recognized_ his race, nor had he cared. Blue skin wasn't rare in a city of vagabonds and travelers, so he hadn't understood his mother's caution. He still _didn’t_ , but he’d given up trying to make sense of her actions. She wasn’t worth the thought. 

Trepidation made his heart skitter, but he maintained his resolve. “Like I said, she would have mentioned somethin’ as important as if I could _get pregnant_.” 

“Do you know what you and your mother are?” Jormaine asked as if Tavion hadn't spoken. 

Tavion scowled. Of course he did. “You mean what I half am, at most?” After emphasizing his mixed heritage, he said, “Lum'a.” 

“Tell me, Tavion, how people many pass through Vergate every day?”

Why the abrupt quiz? “I dunno. Thousands?” 

“You don’t know.”

It took Tavion a moment to realize he wasn’t being repeated; he was being _corrected_. Just as _Litr_ Salas had corrected him upon their first meeting. _What's with them and grammar?_ “I don’t know,” he repeated, struggling to hide his increasing irritation. 

“More than thousands,” Jormaine continued, as if the impromptu grammar lesson hadn’t happened. “In all those thousands that pass through every day, how many times have you met another Lum'a?” 

_‘I don’t see why that matters,’_ was what he wanted to say, but that would be a lie. He understood where Jormaine was going with this, and he’d wondered the same thing many times. “None, I suppose,” he said reluctantly. “But none of that means you’re right.” Even if all Lum'a could become pregnant, that didn't mean _Tavion_ could. He was a hybrid. Maybe his Starten heritage saved him from that fate?

“Considering you didn't even know Lum'a males can carry until I told you, you'll forgive me for not being discouraged by your disbelief. As I was saying, Lum'a are exceedingly rare. I admit, I didn't expect your ignorance, but if your mother did not teach you, then you had no opportunity to learn of your physiology.”

If Jormaine was right—and what reason did he have to lie?—then this was just another transgression to add to his family's list. 

Jormaine slid a piece of paper across the table. Then, he placed a vial of light pink liquid on the table. “Here is the proposal, and if we cannot reach an agreement, you may want to drink that.” 

Tavion eyed the liquid suspiciously but didn’t inquire after it. He was too curious to see what was being offered.

_Am I really considering this? Of course not. I'm just making it look like I've given his offer thought._

The contract was short and to the point, and Tavion couldn’t believe what he was reading. “This is for real?” It was an offer to _double_ his total payment in exchange for acting as their surrogate—on top of paying for the expenses that would come with it. 

Jormaine inclined his head. 

Tavion felt like he was dreaming. _Or hallucinating. Definitely hallucinating._

“Will a, uh, healer need to examine me first?” he asked, trying to find and ask logical questions while his head spun at the chance that Jormaine might know more about his physiology than he did.

“In time,” Jormaine replied. “For a month, however, we will focus on the act of procreation.”

How could the Avvai lord make something so technical sound so appealing? _You're mental._

“You'll pay for just the chance?”

“I'm not a gambling man,” Jormaine replied, and that was all he said. 

Tavion took that to mean that Jormaine was certain he would get what he wanted if Tavion signed the contract, which was distressing. 

"So, why not have a doctor, you know, help the creation process along?" _Why do it the old fashioned way?_ Tavion was trying to ask. 

"The doctor we trust is not authorized to do such a procedure himself. We value our privacy, and we assume you value yours." 

That made sense, he supposed. “If I agree to it, I want my three years shortened to one, but I want the same pay as if I served all three.” 

There was no way Jormaine would agree. Not to mention that the Avvai lord was wrong about his ability to carry. Tavion knew his own anatomy.

There was the nagging, persistent concern that Jormaine might be right. If so, was that much money worth the ordeal? Many offered themselves as surrogates to help couples in need. There was nothing wrong with it, but was that a path he was willing to take? It certainly wasn't one he'd ever imagined for himself...

He didn't want to have a child. Though, the child wouldn't be his, right? He wouldn't be raising it. 

_Stop it. Jormaine is wrong. There isn't going to_ be _a child._

Jormaine considered it for a moment. “A year and a half is agreeable. That also gives you time to decide what trade or degree you wish to pursue.” 

Tavion gave him a bewildered look. “A trade or degree?” 

“Of course. Despite your assumption that you were purchased as a _bedslave_ , that is not how we operate. We buy contracts at auction so that we may offer a few promising people a chance to better themselves. In exchange, those that take advantage of the offer work for us for a few years after their contract ends, and our relationship with them often persists for longer than that.”

“You just told me I was purchased as a possible surrogate,” Tavion argued, and hadn't Jormaine seduced him before discussing surrogacy with him? 

“Neither contract has anything to do with the other. Should you turn down being a surrogate, you'll receive the same benefits you otherwise would have. You have a choice, Tavion, as you did in that bedroom.”

Tavion flushed. If that was true, why had he been scrubbed and dressed to Jormaine’s satisfaction? Why had Jormaine been avoiding him? Was he dissatisfied with his wife’s choice? If so, what had changed? 

A question for another time. 

Deciding it was best to operate under the assumption that Jormaine was right about his physiology (even though it felt surreal), he considered what else to ask. Tavion didn't insult the Avvai by asking if he would accept a hybrid child; clearly he would. 

“You're certain we're compatible enough to...?” He couldn't even say it because it sounded so ridiculous. 

“There is much too little known about Lum'a, so there is no certainty. However, Starren are known for their ability to hybridize.”

In other words, Jormaine thought he was uniquely suited for this...task. 

It was all so overwhelming, and he wasn't very good at making decisions on a whim. He pondered them long and hard. “Can I have time to think about it?” 

“I see no harm in taking the day. While you're at it, decide what profession you might like to learn. Perhaps...something with literature?” 

Tavion froze, wondering how Jormaine knew he'd been reading and worrying he would be offended. It took him a moment to realize there was amusement in the Avvai's gaze. That was...good. “Right. Thanks.”

Jormaine gestured for him to go, so he took the contract, grabbed a plate of triangular sandwiches, and left. 

As he headed back to to his temporary chambers, Tavion wondered about the pink vial, but he figured he didn't really want to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, reader! I've love to hear what you thought. Kudos and reviews fuel the creative fire. ♥


	4. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tough choice is made.

Hours later and Tavion was no closer to making a decision. It was a lot of money—and a lot of time saved—but was it worth it? Did he want to subject himself to—

Tavion still couldn’t wrap his mind around it!

There was no way he could get pregnant. Jormaine had to be wrong. Not only did he not believe it was possible, the idea of somehow being able to carry a child filled him with horror. It certainly would have disgusted his father, Tavion thought bitterly. That realization was more satisfying than it should have been, but it was no reason to accept the proposal. Anyway, it was his duty was to decide if he was willing whether or not it was possible. 

There were two factors holding him back. Firstly, he had always sworn that if he had children, he wouldn't abandon them. However, he’d never imagined he would be acting as surrogate; that created special circumstances. It wasn't abandonment so much as it was helping a couple. Therein lied the second problem. He didn't know what type of parents the Avvai couple would be. Would they treat a child with unconditional love or was this merely the necessary creation of an heir for a wealthy couple? 

How could he judge them worthy or unworthy after only knowing them for such a short period? Was there someone he could ask? One of the servants perhaps? 

With such a big decision still undecided, he was unwilling to give thought to a profession he'd like to learn. It somehow seemed irrelevant in the face of this crisis. 

After reading it twice more, he discarded the contract and sprawled out on the bed with a sigh of frustration. It had only been a few hours at most, but he was exhausted from the mental debate. Was he allowed to sleep? Well, he hadn't asked permission to be on the bed in the first place, so what was the harm in sleeping in it? 

Except his mind was racing. Sleep wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Not to mention it was just turning dusk. 

He stood and wandered to the window, hoping something in the outside world might distract him. Luck would have it that Jormaine was within view, walking the property leisurely. In his wake followed a flock of five winged beasts. Yols, Tavion’s mind supplied. About hip height, they walked on four legs, all watching Jormaine with vivid interest and wagging tails. 

Tavion had wanted to clear his head—not spy on Jormaine—but he couldn't take his eyes off of the man. It was revealing to see what the Avvai did when he thought no one was looking. 

Jormaine came to a gate where a large beast, with horns so massive Tavion didn't know how it stood upright, trotted forward to greet him. Though Tavion wasn't familiar with yales, hoofed creatures often used for riding, he could tell its gait was off. Maybe it was recovering from an injury? 

The rustling of wings made him swivel, and he found _Liry_ Salas watching him from the doorway. Upon being acknowledged, she entered the room, closed the door, and walked forward with leisure. She looked past him and to the window beyond before settling her gaze on him once more. “Yes, my husband has a way with strays.” 

Tavion didn't know if that was directed at him or not, but he didn't comment. “How may I serve you, _Liry_ Salas?” he asked carefully. 

She folded her hands in front of her. “Jormaine has offered you the position.”

It wasn't a question, and it made it sound like he'd been offered a job. Well, he supposed it was. He was going to get paid for a service, wasn't he? “Yeah,” he said, polite but hesitant. 

“Have you made a decision?” she asked curtly. 

It was far more forward than he had expected. “No,” he said honestly. He didn't bother explaining that he wasn't sure he even believed what they did about his heritage. Instead, he asked, “Why did you let me believe you bought me as a bedslave?” When trying to figure someone out, prod them and see if they fight. It wasn’t the smartest way to live, but Tavion preferred to know. In his experience, the unknown was dangerous. He’d rather face explosive anger when he was prepared for it than be caught unawares. 

She looked amused at his boldness, but he remained tense. “I do believe I said no such thing.” 

He replayed their interaction and had to admit that she was right. It had been implied, but no one had said it. Had he been instructed to wait on his knees, beside the bed and half dressed, to _tempt_ Jormaine? 

_Clever woman._

She clearly knew submission was her husband’s drug. For a flicker of a moment, he wondered if—no, that wasn’t appropriate. 

While trying to ward off the unwanted thought, he asked, “Why me? Ain't there plenty of Avvai who would be willing to be your surrogate?” 

A calm mask overtook _Liry_ Salas’ expression, turning it cool. “Aren't there,” she corrected, ever patient. “As for your question, that is a private matter. You were chosen, and that's all you need to know. However, if it matters, your hesitation is testimony that we made a good choice.”

Was it? He supposed it proved that he cared about children, but being a decent person wasn't genetic. So, why did it matter? There was no point in asking. If she’d wanted him to know more, she would have elaborated.  
Half-exasperated, he abandoned tact and tried the direct approach.“Is there any point in me asking if you'll be good parents?” 

She studied him for so long that he worried he'd overstepped. “You have no reason to believe me, but I'll answer regardless.” Her emerald gradient wings rustled, perhaps an indication that she was uneasy. Tavion got the impression that she, like Jormaine, was not used to making requests. The idea that Tavion could say no likely scared them both. “Jormaine has wanted children since he was old enough to contemplate it. Not because he's expected to but because he genuinely loves children. He is nurturing and patient. Even as a teenager, he always tended to those younger than him, weaker than him. As you know by now, I cannot give him children, but I can give him the chance.”

Tavion couldn't help but wonder how she felt about all this. If she resented needing help giving Jormaine something he desired so fiercely. However, he didn't dwell on it. He wasn't here to discern how _Liry_ Salas felt. 

Maybe he was naive, but he believed her answer was sincere. Just because he hadn’t seen that gentleness with his own eyes—unless one counted spying on him as he tended to his pets—didn’t mean it wasn’t true. She clearly thought the world of her husband. 

Tavion just hoped Jormaine turned out to be worthy of that devotion. 

_You’re a sentimental idiot._

Yes, he was because he’d made up his mind. “Should we arrange for a checkup before we finalize a contract?” Which wasn't quite an agreement, but wasn’t it though? 

_I’m insane._

“I'll arrange an appointment, if that's what you want.” 

Tavion nodded and looked back towards the window, avoiding eye contact and trying to end the conversation. He couldn’t very well ask the lady of the house to leave his chambers. They weren’t even _his_ , technically. 

“Collect Jormaine, will you, Tavion? It's nearly time for dinner. You'll join us as well.”

Why? “I'm not hungry, _Liry_ Salas.” That wasn’t quite true, but he’d gone longer without eating. It wouldn’t kill him to skip one meal so he could have time alone to contemplate what he was about to do. 

“How unfortunate, but dinner is an important meal. You’ll come anyway.” 

Her resolute tone ended the conversation there. Between Jormaine and _Liry_ Salas, Tavion was wearier of the latter. Though she looked delicate, he knew she had to be a fierce woman to be matched so well with Jormaine. Clearly, she was a woman who knew what she wanted and was quite used to getting her way. 

“Yes, _Liry_ Salas,” he replied. 

“Esme will show you the way.” 

She gestured for him to follow, so he did. Esme was waiting dutifully just outside the doorway, hands held behind her back. 

_Liry_ Salas said something in their native tongue, and Esme bowed before turning to Tavion. “This way, _Corpyr_.”

He had no idea what that meant, but he didn't ask. There were more important things on his mind. As she led him through the hallways, his mind was preoccupied with figuring out what he was going to say to Jormaine. Would the Avvai lord expect a final answer now? Tavion had planned to avoid him until he did, but that plan had been dismantled.

Before he was ready, Esme led him outside and across the grounds. As Jormaine came into view, the pack of yols began to fuss, alerting him of their approach. 

His wings spread slightly, eyes discerning. “Tavion,” he greeted, a hand on one of the yols. After dismissing Esme, he asked, “What brings you here?”

Rather than answer, he said, “Why so many of ‘em?” while gesturing to the yols.

Jormaine raised a brow.

It took Tavion a moment to realize his grammar was once again being protested. “ _Why do you have_ so many of them?” 

“They're rescues,” Jormaine replied. “Mostly, they were found on the streets. All except Sula.” He indicated the yol he was petting. “She was confiscated from an abusive lowlife. When I heard her story, I went immediately to adopt her.”

So, he truly did care for his animals. It was strange to see such a powerful man show compassion and tenderness. Tavion hadn't known that was possible. Where was the Avvai lord who had taken him against the chamber wall? 

Pushing aside his puzzlement, Tavion said, “ _Liry_ Salas says it's time for dinner.”

He raised his brows. “Well then, we mustn't dawdle.” 

Tavion nearly rolled his eyes. “She says I have to attend.” Prodding the sleeping dragon, he added, “She's just as bossy as you, yanno?” 

Rather than take offense, Jormaine chuckled, his voice rich with pride. “Yes. She is quite particular. You would do well not to fight her when she's made up her mind.”

Tavion wouldn't fight her anyway, but he figured that didn't need saying. As Jormaine began to head inside though, he couldn't contain his confusion. “You're just gonna leave the yols?”

Jormaine paused, wings spread as he raised a brow over his shoulder. “They have a temperature controlled shelter out here because they protect and patrol the grounds.”

Of course. How dare Tavion suggest the man's pets not have their own _house_. 

He followed Jormaine in silence, dreading a conversation about whether or not he would be accepting the surrogacy contract. When he wasn't asked by the time they reached the dining room, he began to speculate that they planned to talk to him together.

Dinner was already on the table when they arrived. _Liry_ Salas awaited them, seated and sipping a glass of water. Jormaine went to her side, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek before taking his place at the head of the table.

Tavion stood back, awkwardly waiting for directions. Should he sit? If so, where? Near them? Away from them? 

Uncertainty was his new shadow. 

“Take a seat, Tavion,” _Liry_ Salas said, indicating the seat across from her.

He did, eyeing the delicious spread of meats, vegetables, and grains. When they began to serve themselves, he followed their lead, taking a portion of everything to try. It was hard to pace himself. Even after days of having plentiful food, eating as much as he could while he could was still habit.

Tavion had gone hungry too many nights to forget that lesson quickly. 

He saw Jormaine take notice, but he thankfully didn’t comment. Instead, he talked with his wife about the yols and Sula’s progress. It was really quite mundane, and Tavion couldn't stand how domestic it all was. Not so soon after they asked him to be their damn surrogate. 

“Why am I here?” he snapped. Shouldn't he be serving? Why did _he_ get to sit at the table with them while others cooked and cleaned? It felt wrong to be handed such luxuries—even though he knew they could afford to grant them. 

Jormaine furrowed his brows, but it was _Liry_ Salas that answered. “Your contract was purchased with the plan that your job would be surrogacy, if you agreed. Until you decide to accept or decline, I see no reason to adjust your duties.” 

“So, is this what it'll be like if I say yes? A life of free time, meals, and sleep while I play incubator?”

She didn't acknowledge his less than respectful reference to surrogacy. “Your time will be spent pursuing an education, sleeping well, eating well, and attempting to conceive.” 

Tavion felt himself flush at that.

She and Jormaine shared a look. A silent exchange took place between them, but Tavion couldn't tell if it was good or bad. He felt awkward all the same. 

“I've scheduled you an for appointment tomorrow morning,” _Liry_ Salas finally said. 

This was it. The time to make a choice. He had so little information to base such an important decision on. Was he a bad person for agreeing to give a child to a couple he hardly knew? Anxiety made his heart pound, but he forced the words out. “I'm willing. If the appointment goes as you think it will.” 

Their relief was evident, though Tavion could tell they fought not to let it show. Jormaine's wings, however, eagerly spread ever so slightly. 

“Excellent. We can settle the contract now that dinner is complete,” _Liry_ Salas said. 

So soon? What if they were wrong about his physiology? Were they not at all concerned about that? “Shouldn't we wait until after the appointment?”

“We will get the results tomorrow. If the news isn't as expected, the contract can be annulled.”

Maybe they were anxious to make it official before he changed his mind. Whatever their motivation for the rush, Tavion saw no reason to delay if they didn't want to. He'd made up his mind, and only time would tell if he would come to regret it. “The contract can be annulled if you fail to uphold your end of the agreement, right?”

“Of course,” Jormaine replied. “We take our obligations very seriously.”

“Good. So, we should make it clear what we each expect, right?”

“Yes,” the Avvai lord replied. “If you would like to build upon the contract, raise concerns, or make changes, now is the time to do so.”

It turned out to be more complex than that. Though he was intimidated by the Avvai couple, he enjoyed the challenge of negotiating. Tavion was a novice, but it didn't seem they were interested in taking advantage of that. Several times during the discussion he got the impression that, as much as they desired a child, they valued his comfort as well. 

What he couldn't understand was why. 

In the end, Tavion got them to agree that he could annul the contract if it became clear that either of them posed a clear threat to a potential child. 

He wouldn't make his mother's mistakes—wouldn't subject a child to unfit parents if he could prevent it. 

Thankfully, he hadn’t offended them with that stipulation. If anything, they seemed satisfied with him making it a condition. 

When they were done, Tavion returned to the chambers he'd been given. He half expected Jormaine to follow him—(now that the contract was official, wouldn’t he want to begin?)—but he didn't. Maybe he was with his wife celebrating.

Why did that thought fill him with bitterness?

Tavion slept in the bed that night. He figured if he was going to carry their child, they could allow him this.


	5. Womb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the healer.

Dread was a boulder in his chest when he woke, and as the day progressed, it only got worse. He couldn't remember when he last saw a healer, so the appointment was basically a new experience. He opted to go alone but with the understanding that the results would be shared with the Salas _Litr_ and _Liry_. Even if it bothered him, there wasn’t much he could do about it because that was the point. They wanted to ensure they were getting what they paid for, and Tavion—

Tavion needed to know if he was who he thought he was. 

_The sooner I get this over with, the sooner they'll realize they were wrong. The sooner we can put this in the past._

The room was cold and white. Too white. Biological diagrams of the more common races of Vergate lined the walls. A poster with a list of common zoonoses—infectious diseases that could be naturally transmitted between species—was stuck to the back of the door. 

After waiting for what felt like forever, the doctor entered the room. Tavion then had to undress, put on a thin gown, and lie down on a cold, metallic table. From there, the healer and his assistant did a (slightly invasive) physical examination, asked his medical history as they drew blood, and got his consent to perform a few scans. 

Of it all, he dreaded the scans the most. He knew what they were looking for—though he couldn't fathom they would find it. 

_They're wrong. I'm not a freak._

That was his mantra as he sat alone awaiting the results of the tests. Yes, his kind was rare, but did that mean it should take so long? He knew he was being unreasonably impatient, but that realization didn't quell his impatience. He wanted this over with so he never had to think about it again.

When the healer returned, he brought the three-dimensional, black and white images with him. Tavion tried to pay attention, but the word _womb_ obliterated his focus, shifting his world on its axis. In his mind, everything he’d known shattered instantaneously, and he felt like a stranger inside of his own body. He nodded mutely as the healer gave him an unwelcome anatomy lesson, and when it was done, Tavion stood, thanked him politely, and left. 

He stared out the window as he was driven back to the Salas’ home, eyes passing over the city streets without seeing any of it. The idea of facing Jormaine tormented him. All he wanted to do was return to his chamber and be alone to digest what he’d been told. The universe must have taken a smidgeon of pity on him because he made it back to his rooms without interruption. 

In the past few years, he’d constantly been on the move—looking for food, water, shelter, a place to clean up. Processing came second to survival. Here, however, the necessities were handed to him. He had nothing to do but linger on the undeniable truth he’d been given. It still didn’t feel real—like it was just some interesting but unfathomable fact about a distant planet. Some strange, irrelevant tidbit someone would share to surprise you. Because although he’d been shown the images—had his _unique_ anatomy explained—he couldn’t comprehend how he’d gone through life without knowing such a fundamental aspect about himself.

Women of most races were defined by their ability to carry life, and they grew up knowing of that capability—whether or not they decided to become mothers. What did that make him? If gender, as far as society was concerned, could be explained by anatomy and biology, then what was he? 

Was the shame in his chest deserved? Was that why his mother hadn't told him? Was that why she hid what they were? Had she found it as distasteful as he did? Was that why she had raised him as a Starren male instead of a Lum'a?

Whatever her excuse was, it was unacceptable, he decided, fury igniting in his chest. She had no right to keep the consequences if his heritage a secret. Not when it affected him _this much_. 

Was it possible he was pregnant even now? He thought back to the pink vial Jormaine had almost offered him—in case they couldn't agree on a contract, Jormaine had said. Maybe to terminate a potential pregnancy. That meant Jormaine thought it was possible he was already carrying. 

Tavion wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream and rage, and some childish part of him wanted to cry that none of it was fair. 

Luckily, he'd learned long ago that life wasn't fair. Learned it from strangers who refused to meet his eyes as they passed him on the city streets. Learned it at the feet of the predators that ran the homeless communities of Vergate. 

Despite the oppressive shame and anger, grief eventually pushed to the forefront of his mind. Tavion felt like a part of himself had died (as dramatic as that sounded), and he was laying it to rest. He was not the Starren man he’d thought he was, and in that revelation, he lost a vital part of his identity. 

Tired though he was of the awful feelings, he found he didn't have the energy to distract himself with reading. He didn't feel like doing much of anything, so he lied in bed despite that it was only. 

Esme entered sometime later with a tray of snacks, leaving it on the table by the door before departing with a warm greeting.

Tavion ignored her, and he ignored the food. Tired of facing reality, he slept. 

 

When the door opened next, the sun was fading in the sky. Tavion blinked awake but didn't stir. Nor did he bother looking to see who it was. If he had the power to, he would have sent them away. He wasn't in the mood for company. Couldn't the servants see that?

“Tavion.” 

His heart skipped a beat at Jormaine’s voice. He sat up quickly, and as he did, it occurred to him why Jormaine was here. A typhoon of bitterness and shame made him scowl at the Avvai lord who came to stand beside the bed. “Bet you're happy, huh?” 

Jormaine didn't reply. He simply stared down at him with a neutral expression, wings held still behind him. 

Tavion didn't need encouragement; the verbal torrent was already underway. “You got the results, right? That's why you're here? Well, get on with it then. Babies don't make themselves. Or, fuck, maybe they do. What the hell do I know about biology?” 

Despite the words, Tavion could think of nothing else he wanted less. 

Jormaine’s expression was impassive. “The day we met, you accused me of buying pleasure slaves. Now, you accuse me of being a rapist. Please. Do keep insulting my character.”

As distracted as Tavion was, he wasn't quite suicidal enough to accept Jormaine's dare. He couldn't bring himself to apologize, however, so he clenched his jaw and remained silent.

Jormaine's wings twitched. They seemed to do that whenever he was suppressing a strong emotion, and Tavion wondered what that feeling was. “It’s my mistake for making this unclear, but you're expected at breakfast _and_ dinner. Every day.”

Tavion hadn’t been expecting that. He’d been expecting anger, violence. Jormaine had never really hurt him though. He wasn’t the type of man Tavion’s father was, but it was hard to remember that sometimes. Jormaine was certainly dangerous, after all. 

Still, Tavion shrugged. “I'm not hungry.” Some might accuse him of pushing his luck, but he really wasn’t in the mood to be social. 

“How unfortunate,” Jormaine said without a hint of sympathy. “But, as per the contract, you're required to eat.”

Right. Because they couldn’t have their baby-maker starving. “You're a bully.”

“Finally. An accusation I accept. Now stand. We will be joining Adeleena for dinner.”

Tavion had no idea who Adeleena was, but he wasn't interested. He wanted to be alone, and Jormaine's insistence was irking him. He got to his feet and stood his ground. “I've been taking care of myself for years. I don't need you telling me what to do.”

Jormaine raised a brow. “No? Well, you certainly seem to crave it.”

“No, I don't!” he protested, and of course he flushed as he did. 

“ _Srelir_ ,” Jormaine purred. “Your body tells me otherwise.”

The change in Jormaine's posture, in his tone, stirred something in Tavion's gut—something he didn't want to feel right now. How could his body be thinking of sex at a time like this? He was having a crisis! 

“I think you're quite content having me tell you what to do. I think you desire it, Tavion. You find it freeing, and there's nothing wrong with that. Not when it's consensual. If I've misread you, speak up.”

Tavion didn't know how to feel. He wasn't capable of having this conversation right now. True as that was, he didn't want to call off their bedroom games on a whim. In the end, silence was his answer; his choice was made.

Jormaine inclined his head. “You will come to dinner without further complaint or you will face punishment.”

Intriguing as that was, Tavion decided not to push. Not now. “Yes, master,” he said, pleased by the spark of desire that lit Jormaine's eyes.

Without a word, Jormaine headed for the doors, golden wings rustling, and Tavion obediently followed. _Liry_ Salas awaited them, and it was then Tavion finally made the connection. _Liry_ Salas was Adeleena. He hadn't been invited to use her name, but he filed it away for future reference. 

“Hello, Tavion,” she greeted him. 

“Hello, _Liry_ Salas,” he replied, inclining his head respectfully. Then, he took his designated seat, feeling guilty when he saw that food had already been served. They'd waited for him rather than start without him. No matter how weird this situation was, no one could say they didn't treat him with respect. More respect, in fact, than his own family ever had. 

“How are you?” she asked. 

His instinctual response was suspicion. Did she have reason to think he wasn't fine? Had Esme reported to her? Was he being spied upon?

“I’m fine,” he lied. 

She smiled tightly. Though too well mannered to call him a liar, Tavion got the feeling she didn't believe him. 

“I'm glad to hear that. You're ready to uphold your end of the bargain then, I assume?” 

Was she trying to call his bluff? “Of course.” He glanced to Jormaine, hoping the Avvai wouldn't dispute his lie. Based on the way Tavion had reacted in his chambers, he would know Tavion was lying. 

Jormaine wasn't even looking at him. Rather, he smiled at his wife and said to them both, “Let's eat, shall we?”

They did, and although Tavion expected awkward silence, the Avvai couple conversed normally. To his surprise, they even did so in Common so he could understand. Not that their conversation held any interest to him. They mostly talked about Jormaine's plans for his rescued pets and what _Liry_ Salas wanted to do with the new section of her garden. 

Tavion focused on eating. Once the scent of food had hit his nose, hunger won. He'd spent too many days pained with starvation to willingly go without a meal for long. Not to mention it felt like a sin to waste such delicious food. During the worst times, he’d eaten less in an entire week than what was now on his plate. 

“Tavion?”

The tone in Jormaine's voice told him that he'd missed a question. “Sorry. What?”

“Business isn’t usually discussed during mealtime, but you need to know that Alever Moro has expressed interest in meeting you.”

Tavion didn't know anyone by that name. “Who?”

“According to Mykila’s report, he's the man that bid the second highest on your contract.”

That didn't sit well with him. Then again, who would think highly of a stranger who tried to buy you? Tavion hadn’t been fond of Jormaine or _Liry_ Salas at first either. Wait. Did that mean he was fond of them now? _Worry about that later._ “What does he want?”

“That's what we would like to find out,” _Liry_ Salas said. “So while it's your decision, I think it would be wise to meet with him. He's coming to talk business with Jormaine tomorrow afternoon, so you'll need to decide by then.”

“Has he given you a reason why he wants to meet me?” It would be weird to make such a request without offering an explanation, so he likely had. “Lemme guess. He gave a reason, but you don't believe it?” 

Jormaine inclined his head. “Yes, and I'm very curious as to why he would lie. Logically, it means he felt we’d refuse his request were he truthful. We're collaborating on a few projects, so if he cannot be trusted, I need to know.” 

Tavion wasn't sure he cared about all that, but he knew it was smart to get to know a potential enemy. Keep ‘em close, right? Plus, he figured the _Litr_ and _Liry_ wouldn't let anything happen to their surrogate. “Okay. I'll do it.” 

Of all the things he’d already faced, meeting a stranger seemed easy. 

The rest of the meal went quickly, and _Liry_ Salas was the first to depart after dessert. She stood, kissed her husband on the cheek, and left. 

As the servants cleared off the table, Tavion decided to make his retreat, but when he stood, Jormaine did the same. They walked to his chambers in silence with Tavion wondering how often he could decline sexual advances before he was accused of breaking the contract.


	6. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavion learns a lesson...or two.

By the time Jormaine shut the doors with a soft click, Tavion still hadn't thought of what to say. How did one explain ‘I know I signed a contract to carry your child, but I thought it wasn't real and now the idea makes me ill.’

Yeah, best not to say that. Except, if he didn't speak up, he had no one to blame but himself. 

“Tell me why I should punish you,” Jormaine said, expression cold as he faced him. 

Tavion frowned, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Uh.”

Jormaine began to unbutton his sleeves, rolling them up with care. “Do good _srelir_ lie to their master’s wife?” 

The nickname put Tavion at ease, signaling that they were playing. He wasn't really in the mood for sex...but the hard look in Jormaine's eyes peaked his interest. Maybe a distraction was exactly what he needed, what he craved. 

Anyway, it was better than _talking_ about what troubled him, right? 

He'd undoubtedly enjoyed their last encounter. Repressing the fact that it could lead to pregnancy, he made the choice to give up control and immerse himself in their game, to surrender to Jormaine and enjoy the ride. 

“No, master,” he replied, lacking even a hint of remorse. Just to further aggravate the Avvai lord. 

Jormaine noticed his tone. “Lying will not be tolerated, _srelir_. Not to me and not to _Liry_ Salas. You will apologize to her or face a harsher punishment.”

Tavion reflexively shook his head. Apologizing would mean telling her that he'd lied. The idea of facing _Liry_ Salas and admitting he wasn't okay, admitting that he loathed the information they'd given him about his biology, was unfathomable. “If I accept a harsher punishment, you won't tell her?” he ventured. 

“You wish to bargain?” Jormaine considered it for a moment. “Very well, _srelir_. Take your punishment willingly, and I won't have to let her know.”

Tavion's relief was short lived. 

“Bend over the bed.” 

Embarrassment and arousal gripped him at once, but he didn't dare make Jormaine repeat himself. He approached the spot he was gestured to and draped himself over the edge of the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Whenever you assume this position, you will do so with your pants and undergarments off.”

Tavion flushed. Hoping Jormaine didn't intend penetration—he wasn't certain he could handle it after the news he'd gotten today—he did as instructed. The cold air chilled his skin but did nothing to discourage the heat flooding his veins. 

“Spread your legs, _srelir_. Show me you accept your punishment—that you know you were bad.”

He hesitated, ashamed of how sexy he found this side of Jormaine to be. Then, though accompanied by humiliation, he did as ordered. His member hardened in response to the vulnerable position, bent over with his rear on display for his master.

He jolted when fingers caressed his lower back. 

“Before we begin,” Jormaine said, “I'll remind you that these games aren't necessary or part of the contract. You can stop this at any point—whether it be for a few moments, a day, or permanently. It's all up to you.”  
Tavion took a breath and nodded, but Jormaine wasn’t done.

“‘Yellow’ means you’re approaching your limit, and ‘red’ means stop. In my experience, people are hesitant to interrupt these games with safe words, so we're going to agree on a signal as well. One hand held flat means you’re approaching your limit. Both hands held flat means you need me to stop. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, master,” Tavion replied, as excited as he was nervous. 

“Good, _srelir_ ,” Jormaine replied, voice warm with praise. 

Then, Tavion yelped as a hand came down on his rear. It wasn't too hard, but it startled him. Instinct had him trying to squirm away, but Jormaine placed a hand on his back and held him firm—delivering another smack. 

This one hurt more, and Tavion was given no break before Jormaine continued. Three more came in rapid succession, bringing tears to the corner of his eyes. 

His nerves protested when Jormaine ran a hand over the stinging flesh of his rear. “I wonder what shade you'll be when I'm done with you.” 

What? He wasn't _done_?

He got his answer when Jormaine delivered another blow and then another. It hurt to have the same flesh hit again and again. That was the point though, wasn't it? When they'd started, he hadn't imagined it would hurt be so painful. He wasn't ready to call it off entirely, but he could no longer remain silent.

“I'm sorry!” he cried, hoping words would still Jormaine’s hand. 

“You will be,” Jormaine replied and instead increased the force of the blows. 

Tavion lost count of how many times he was struck, his flesh a stinging blur of pain. He gripped the sheets, trying and failing not to cry. 

When he could take no more, when he was about to flatten his palms and call it quits, Jormaine stopped. 

“Will you ever lie again, _srelir_?”

Tavion shook his head vigorously, unable to form words. 

A hand traced his stinging rump, making Tavion gasp. “I believe you, but I'm not convinced you've learned your lesson. You want to learn your lesson, don't you?” 

He forced himself to speak, his voice shaky. “Y-yes, master.” 

Hands manipulated his hips, spreading his legs, and then Jormaine began to palm him, stoking the embers of desire until they burned in full force once more. 

Tavion knew without a doubt what Jormaine had planned, but now he found he wasn't adverse to the idea. His length, hard with need, ached for it. Every fiber of his being pulsed with desire at the thought, down to his very core. He wanted Jormaine deep within him—to reach where the needy ache was strongest.

As he did their first time, Jormaine did not prepare him—though he did coat himself with a lubricant. The blunt head of his member met Tavion's entrance, lingering for a moment. He knew without a doubt that Jormaine was waiting for permission. If Tavion used the signal, he would stop. He would stop, and he wouldn't ask questions—but the contract and his desire would not be satisfied. 

“Please, master…” he begged, pretending to plead for mercy—continuing their game.

Jormain delivered a light swat to his bruised skin. “Do I need to repeat the punishment, _srelir_? Or will you behave?” 

Tavion whimpered. 

Then, without further delay, Jormaine breached him, pushing into Tavion's body inch by inch. His unprepared body protested, making him whine, but Jormaine paid him no mind. When he was buried deep, he paused, but Tavion wished he hadn't. He didn't want gentle. Not today. 

He wiggled, feigning as if he was trying to escape. At attempt to spark Jormaine into action. 

It worked. Jormaine gripped his hips firmly and made a displeased sound. He was only ever inarticulate in the bedroom, and Tavion _loved_ it. 

“What did I say, _srelir_?” 

A light swat to his stinging rear made him cry out, tensing. 

Jormaine hummed as Tavion clamped down around him. “So tight. If you would just behave, _srelir_ , you would be perfect in every way. I would take care of you, and you'd want for nothing.”

Tavion moaned at the idea of being Jormaine’s willing and pampered bedslave. Nothing to worry about except pleasing his harsh but caring master.

In response, Jormaine finally began fuck him, thrusting in as deep as he could go before almost pulling out entirely and repeating in a rapid, needy rhythm. Tavion longed to push back into him, to welcome his master's length into his body as deeply as it could go. Soon, though the angle made it hard, he could hold back no more. He rocked back on his heels over and over, desperately trying to meet Jormaine's thrusts.

Rather than be displeased, Jormaine chuckled. "So needy for me. “You should see yourself, _srelir_ ,” he said breathlessly, rutting unrelentingly. “Your rear a deep indigo from my hand, your legs spread and quivering as I use you— _breed_ you.”

Tavion's breath caught in his throat at the image Jormaine painted. Oh, it felt good to be so vulnerable. To be at the mercy of another and without the need for thought or action. His only responsibility was to obey. The simplicity of it was uplifting. 

He held nothing back, gasping, groaning, and pleading for more. Jormaine didn't reply, continuing at the pace he determined, prolonging their joining every second he could. Then, after a blur of thrusts, slapping skin, and moans, Jormaine stilled. 

Wet heat filled him in bursts, and Tavion couldn't care less about the consequences that he’d been worried about earlier. He wanted his own release, and when Jormaine eventually withdrew, Tavion desperately tried to take himself in hand—even though he knew his master didn't like when he did. 

Jormaine smacked his bare bottom once more. “Not yet, _srelir_. You'll finish when I'm finished with you. This is a punishment. Not a reward. Remain as you are.”

Tavion didn't understand, and though he didn't want to wait, he retained his position as Jormaine walked away. Footsteps led to the doors, which opened and closed, and then Tavion was alone. 

Was Jormaine serious? Before Tavion could wonder how long he was expected to wait, the doors opened and closed again. Silence stretched on, making him anxious. His need hadn't diminished, and he was on the edge of begging when a hand traced his bruises. 

“A masterpiece,” Jormaine said without explaining why he'd left. “Soon, _srelir_ , I'm going to have you again. Perhaps again after that, if I so desire. The night has just begun.”

Tavion groaned, sincerely hoping the Avvai was overestimating his stamina.

 

He was a quivering, incoherent mess of pain and pleasure when Jormaine finished inside of him for a second time that night. This coupling was just as furious as the first, and Tavion was exhausted. The torture was in not knowing how many times Jormaine intended to use him or if he intended to let him finish at all. 

A whimper escaped his lips when his master slowly withdrew from his overused body. As he had before starting this round, he reached around to tease Tavion's length, but Tavion was too beyond words to beg anymore. He only made a desperate and tired sound, a wordless plea for a reprieve. 

Gentle hands guided him, turning him over. He hissed as his bruised rear made contact with the bed, but Jormaine helped ease him down gently. 

“You did well, _srelir_. Very well.” 

Then, Jormaine shocked his muddled brain when he lowered his head and took Tavion's aching length into his mouth. He gasped and arched into the welcoming heat, never having experience anything as exquisite. With as long as he'd been left in need, it took no time at all for him to sputter his release, but Jormaine didn't relinquish him until he had nothing left to give, swallowing every drop without hesitation. 

Tavion trembled as his master pulled away, drained both physically and emotionally. When Jormaine began to maneuver him back onto his stomach, he choked on fearful sound, too far gone to hide. 

“No more, master,” he pleaded. 

“No more,” Jormaine agreed.

Despite the promise, he jumped when a warm, damp cloth touched his thighs. Jormaine made a soothing sound and continued to meticulously and gently clean him. 

“Did I push you too far, Tavion?” 

Tavion didn't know, didn't trust himself to answer because it was taking all of his focus not to cry. 

_What’s_ wrong _with me?_

Jormaine didn't press him. He continued his work, patting Tavion dry when he was done. 

“This will help with the pain,” his master said. Then, a cool, creamy substance was being applied to his bruised skin, Jormaine's fingers so gentle Tavion almost asked him to stop. He didn't deserve it—and that was a startling thought. Where had that come from?

He tried to banish the thought and let himself enjoy the tender treatment, but it was such a sharp contrast to what he'd just undergone. It was...conflicting. 

When Jormaine was done working the soothing substance into his skin, his hands began to knead Tavion's muscles. From his hips, up his back, to his shoulder. He sagged into the bed, making pleased little sounds as Jormaine tended to him. 

Jormaine was in no hurry. Tavion couldn't say how long the massage went on. Long enough that he almost began to doze. When the Avvai lord stopped, Tavion slowly turned over, careful not to aggravate his bruises, and was surprised when Jormaine covered him with a small, soft blanket. 

He felt better but not quite recovered. Sitting up, he saw there was a bowl of sliced fruit and a glass of juice on the bedside table. When had those appeared? 

Jormaine picked up the glass and handed it to him. “Drink.”

Tavion just stared at it. “I feel...weird.” Less dazed but still fatigued. 

“This will help.”

He reluctantly accepted it, finding the glass chilled with condensation, and took a few sips. As he did, his mind replayed the words Jormaine had whispered more than once as he fucked him. “Did you mean it? What you said about...breeding me?”  
After feeling so much of it lately, Tavion instantly recognized the shame that was threatening to consume him. As soon as he asked it, he wished he he could take it back. What did it even matter it Jormaine had meant it? This was nothing more than a contractual arrangement _to produce a child_. Of course he meant it. _You're an idiot._

Jormaine gave him an unreadable expression for a few silent seconds. “Of course not. Tavion, you've agreed to give me and my wife the most precious gift. That was merely part of the scene. It means no more than you calling me master.”  
Despite how tired he was, his mind made the unspoken connection. Jormaine was saying it was a fantasy of his—as Tavion enjoyed using the word ‘master.’ 

He didn't know what to say to that so he sipped the drink some more. Eventually, he asked, “What's all this?” with a gesture to the blanket and fruit. 

“Aftercare,” Jormaine replied. “Drink as much of that as you can.” 

Tavion sipped, hoping obedience would prompt Jormaine to continue his explanation. 

“Intense games—also called scenes—usually require aftercare. Not always, but I opted to be prepared. Everyone is different, and, to be clear, what you're feeling physically and emotionally is normal.” 

Tavion frowned at the last comment. Normal. How was any of this normal? Then again, Jormaine seemed well-versed in this...stuff. Maybe he could help untangle the jungle of emotions muddling his brain. “You don't think I'm weak? For wanting what you did and then reacting like that?”

That's what Tavion couldn't understand. Why did he feel so weak now when he'd felt so good earlier? 

Jormaine gave him an unreadable look. “Do you think I'm perverse for enjoying your submission?” 

Tavion understood the comparison. “No.” Men were supposed to like being in control, right? He didn't voice that thought, certain that wasn't the point Jormaine was trying to make. Instead, he focused on getting out all the questions he had.  
“Are we going to play these games again?” he asked. As much conflict as he felt, the idea of giving them up so soon left him dissatisfied. 

“Only if you will be honest with me concerning them.” Jormaine’s golden eyes were piercing. “I believe I pushed you too far this time, but you didn't use any signals. If I can't trust you to know your limits, this doesn't work.”

Tavion opened his mouth to argue—because he wasn't certain he had been pushed too far—but that wasn't the point. Jormaine’s condition was fair. “Okay.” 

That didn't satisfy the Avvai lord. “Wise choice. Now, answer the question. Did I go too far?” 

Tavion wasn't sure. It wasn't as if there was a clear cut line in the sand. “I dunno, and if you did, well, it's my fault for letting you.”

Jormaine didn't argue with that, though he didn’t seem to completely agree. “You set your limits, Tavion. Can I trust you to do that from now on?”

To be certain, he didn't answer right away. He gave it serious thought because he was starting to think Jormaine might be right. He might have reached his limit sometime during their second round, but he hadn't ended the game. He'd wanted to see what it would be like—being completely at his master's mercy. He hadn't meant to hurt Jormaine by doing it. 

“Yeah. You can,” he finally answered. 

Jormaine accepted his reply. Or, well, he didn't argue. Good enough. 

Tavion yawned suddenly, though he tried to muffle in. Their game, combined with the discussion afterwards, had worn him out. Vulnerable and with his barriers still obliterated, he dared to ask Jormaine to join him. 

“Just until I fall asleep,” he hurriedly added. He needed to feel like he was more than just a thing to be bred. 

Jormaine gave in without protest, and Tavion drifted off atop a pillow of gilded feathers bed of gilded feathers and a pillow of limber muscle.


	7. Moro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Moro.

He awoke slowly, so comfortable he couldn't fathom moving. His muscles were loose and relaxed for the first time in years. When he shifted, he appreciated the feathery texture beneath him. Groggy as he was, it took him a few seconds to realize it was feathers. It was Jormaine’s wing, warm and soft against his bare skin, and he was cuddled against the man’s side. 

Somehow this position was more embarrassing than anything that had happened the night before. 

He tried to appraise Jormaine without moving and found the Avvai’s eyes were closed. It was odd to see him so relaxed. Tavion found it _more_ disconcerting to see this side of him. A man so powerful should never look so....normal. 

“Are you feeling rested, _srelir_?”

Tavion jerked, and the movement sent a jolt of pain through his rear. He bit back a curse as Jormaine turned his head to look at him. 

“Have you been awake this whole time?” he snapped, angry at being startled. 

“Avvai do not require much sleep,” Jormaine replied. 

That wasn't really an answer. 

Tavion scooted off of the bed with discomfort, and by the time his feet hit the floor, his backside was aching fiercely. The brush of his tunic against the bruises was painful; he couldn't imagine what wearing pants would feel like. Tavion did not look forward to that—but wait. Didn't Jormaine have something for the pain? He'd used it last night. 

Though Tavion was willing to bet Jormaine would be smug if he asked for pain relief, feeding Jormaine's ego was no reason to remain silent. If anything, it was a small bonus. 

“Can I get some more of that bruise stuff?” he asked as Jormaine stood, feathers rustling. However, it wasn't his wings that Tavion's gaze caught upon. Like himself, Jormaine was wearing only a tunic, leaving his hard length out for Tavion to admire. 

The Avvai’s responding laugh was rich with amusement. “What would you do to earn it, _srelir_?”

That stirred his interest. The idea of having to _earn_ such a basic necessity fit the slave-master dynamic of their game quite well. Just thinking about it… How could Jormaine turn him on with only a few words? 

“What do you desire, master?” he asked, eager-to-please and not bothering to hide it.

“No, _srelir_ ,” Jormaine replied, still amused. “You must make an offer.”

The shock of being allowed to choose caught him off guard. Maybe this was just part of the game, or maybe Jormaine wanted him to assess what he could handle after last night's rough treatment. 

What Tavion really wanted to do was sink to his knees and suck on his master's beautiful cock. Just the thought made him burn with desire, but neither of them had showered. Considering where Jormaine's member had been...

_Another time._

So, instead, he turned around and lowered himself down to his hands and knees. 

Jormaine needed no clarification. He swept into position behind Tavion, feathers brushing the bare skin of his hips before hands gripped him, guiding him. To his surprise, a single finger breached him, but Tavion made no complaints. Jormaine knew exactly what he was doing, and Tavion moaned to show his appreciation. 

Two fingers. 

Three.

Jormaine worked his body like he was molding clay. Shaping and guiding—firm but gentle. Tavion hadn't known how badly he'd needed gentle until now. The tender touch unraveled him, and by the time his master took pity on him and finally buried himself down to the hilt, he was begging for it. The coupling was furious—a cacophony of flesh on flesh with Jormaine's dirty praises: “Look at how well you take my cock, _srelir_ ,” and, “You'll still beg for me even when you're round with my child, won't you?” 

Tavion should have been be disgusted, but he was too consumed with desire. The idea of pregnancy was appalling...but having _Jormaine's_ child? Tavion moaned as he came, and Jormaine quickly followed suit. His master held him by his hips, keeping him still as his member continued to pulse inside of him. Wet heat filled Tavion in waves.

By the stars, he loved how it felt. He could do this all day—well, that was his job now wasn't it? _Dream fulfilled_ , he thought wryly. 

Jormaine waited until he was spent, refusing to waste a precious drop, before he pulled out and stood. “Onto the bed. I'll help you apply it.”

It took Tavion's sated brain a moment to remember what “it” was. Right. The bruise cream.

He stood on aching knees, dripping with the evidence of their act, and suddenly self-derision and disgust welled in his chest. What if he was made for this? What if this was all just his—his _biology_ demanding to be sated? 

This was the fourth time Jormaine had spent inside of him. It only took once for a woman to get pregnant. Would it be the same for Tavion? Would he be able to tell when and if Jormaine's seed took? 

A sudden thought struck him like a whip, and nausea made his head spin. If fate had been crueler, he could have been impregnated when that vile, piece of filth had— 

He couldn't imagine having had that happen while alone and on the streets. What would he have done?

Lightheadedness blurred the edges of his vision. He stumbled, but strong hands caught him. Jormaine seemed to lift him with minimal effort and placed him gently on the bed. That didn't exactly help his self-esteem, but he was too busy focusing on not vomiting to really care. 

“Do you need a medic?” 

Tavion felt worse when he heard the worry in Jormaine's voice. “I think I just stood up too fast,” he lied. Well, it wasn't _really_ a lie. It could have been true. He didn't really know why he'd almost fainted, but he definitely didn't need a doctor. 

A doctor couldn't fix what had happened. 

“If this happens again, it would ease my conscious for you to see a medic.”

Tavion had expected to be ordered, to be demanded. A request was a lot harder to argue with. “Okay,” he agreed, hoping it wouldn't come up again. 

Minutes later, as the lightheadedness seemed to pass, Tavion gingerly turned over. 

When Jormaine was done applying the cream to his bruises, he began to dress. “Have a shower and meet us for breakfast,” the Avvai said before he left. 

Tavion agreed and got the feeling that if he took too long, Jermaine would be back with a doctor in tow. That in mind, he hurried up and in the dining room quicker than usual.

Esme was setting the table when he arrived, but neither of the Salases were present. Her face lit up upon seeing him. “Good morning, _Corpyr_ ,” she greeted, beaming. “Sit! Sit!” She went to pull out a chair for him, and though he felt weird accepting the gesture, it seemed rude to reject it. 

“Thanks,” he said, sitting down with care. It was...bearable, but Tavion could tell this was going to be a long breakfast. _Why don’t they have cushioned chairs?_ “Wanna tell me what ‘corpeer’ means?”

“ _Corpyr_.” She corrected his pronunciation. 

“ _Corpyr_ ,” he repeated. “So, what's it mean?”

Esme frowned. “I do not know the what is Common for it.” She struggled. “It is like—”

“Tavion. Esme. Good morning.”

_Liry_ Salas' entrance stole Esme's focus, but it was Jormaine on the lady Avvai's arm that Tavion couldn't stop staring at. He felt awkward all of a sudden. Like an intruder, a blue stain amidst their pristine and beautiful home. Though _Liry_ Salas had been nothing but welcoming, he felt like a strain upon her marriage. How could she be okay with knowing Jormaine had spent the night with him?

_This is weird._

Then again, maybe he was the weird one for thinking that. On such a diverse planet, polygamy was as common as monogamy. As with everything, there were those that opposed it, but some people just hated anyone that was different from them. 

Since he was fine with the arrangement, if a little awkward, he tried not to linger on it. This wasn't a permanent situation anyway.

“Good morning,” he replied as Esme bowed and then scurried off to tell the kitchen staff they were ready for food.

“How are you this morning?” _Liry_ Salas asked. 

“I'm fine,” he said stiffly. 

“Oh? Jormaine tells me you had a dizzy spell.” 

Tavion almost shot Jormaine a glare. “It passed quickly. I feel fine now.”

She nodded. “I'm glad to hear it.”

As food was served, Tavion thought of the day to come and his curiosity got the better of him. “When is Alever Moro arriving?” He was a little nervous about meeting the stranger, but he’d already agreed to do it. 

_Liry_ Salas looked up from her plate. “We do not discuss business while eating.”

Right. Well, it was _her_ home. He couldn't very well argue with her even if he disagreed with the rule. So he focused on eating. Even after days of having food readily available, he still ate in a hurry—as if afraid it might vanish. He wasn't, but learned behavior was hard to change. 

“Tavion.”

He looked up. “Yes, _Liry_ Salas?” 

“If you're ever hungry between mealtimes, ask Esme or come to the kitchen. The staff know to welcome you.”

Having been fearing a reprimand for his eating habits, he was surprised by the understanding. “Thank you,” he struggled to say. He'd been accepting so much help lately, and he had to constantly remind himself that he had earned it. He was doing them a rather big favor; this wasn't charity. 

“You're quite welcome.”

After a moment, Jormaine asked, “Have you given thought to what you'd like to study?”

Jormaine knew he hadn't exactly had time, so Tavion scowled. It was more than that though. Education had never been something his father valued, and his grades had often earned him ridicule. 

_“You think good marks are gonna help you in the real world? You just wait. You'll see how much your boss cares how well you did reading classic literature when you can't work on the line quick enough.”_

“No,” he snapped defensively. “And what's the point? I’ll be pregnant soon, right? That's the plan. Anyway, where I'm from, working is valued more. No one has time for education.”

No one had the money for it either. Who could afford to cut their hours back even if they did manage to scrape together the money to pay for classes? When food was in short supply, education became a luxury few could afford—like healthcare. Before he'd run away, he had already dropped out of school to help his parents pay the bills. He hadn't been the first in his neighborhood to do so. 

Tavion realized Jormaine and _Liry_ Salas were staring at him, and he was chagrined by his outburst. They didn't really deserve his frustration. Yes, they had money, but they had been kind to him. Not to mention they were helping others with their wealth. It was simply hard to see that some were living in such luxury while others were scrambling to afford basic necessities. He'd always known it was true, but seeing it was entirely different. 

“Nonetheless,” _Liry_ Salas said, “You have the time now. We expect you to take advantage of that. You had near perfect marks in school and were on scholarship to a private—”

“You looked at my school records?” Tavion couldn't contain his horror. He didn't know why that bothered him so much. Maybe it was because he'd been ridiculed for his grades or maybe it was because he'd been mercilessly bullied in school. Did his records tell them _that_? He hoped not. 

“It's impolite to interrupt someone,” she chided. “As I was saying, you were on a merit-based scholarship for a private secondary school. This is a chance to complete and advance your education. If nothing else, more schooling will impress potential future employers. I've already enrolled you into a program to complete your secondary school degree.” 

Tavion could tell from the stern look on her face that she was not going to take no for an answer. This woman was an immovable force when she made up her mind. He didn't appreciate being told what to do, but she had a point. More education would improve his employment opportunities.  
He couldn't rely on their wealth forever.

Swallowing his pride, he said, “Thank you,” and returned his eyes to his plate. 

“You're welcome. I'll have the details sent to your chambers.”

His chambers. Not Jormaine's. That wording caught his attention, but he didn't comment. Maybe she'd misspoken. 

When they were done eating, before the servants came to clean away the dishes, Jormaine finally debriefed him. “Once I've finished talking business with Alever Moro, I'll send for you. He desires to speak with you alone. If you're comfortable with that—”

“I am,” Tavion said quickly. 

Jormaine gave him a look for interrupting. “Then, it's settled, _srelir_.” 

Because Tavion was sitting across from her, he could see the subtle shift in _Liry_ Salas’ expression—but what at? His interruption or the nickname?

Tavion didn't dare address it. He already felt as if he was constantly walking on the edge. One misstep and they could decide to make his life miserable, couldn't they? They weren't legally obligated to be kind to him. 

Jormaine stood and kissed his wife on the cheek. 

She smiled, took his hand, and said something Tavion couldn't understand. Jormaine replied in kind. 

Struggling to hide his frustration, he stood, politely bid them goodbye, and then left. 

As he headed to his chambers, Tavion decided then that he _really_ needed to learn Avvai.

 

Luckily, Esme was cleaning the bathroom when he arrived. He could think of no one better to ask, and it turned out that she was delighted to help. 

“Oh, _Corpyr_! The Litr and Liry will be much pleased!” she proclaimed. Less than ten minutes later, she’d returned with an armful of books from the library. “Here! This a Common to Avvai dictionary and the reverse. This one is an introduction to grammar and conversational Avvai. When you've completed it, then you can move on to this one.”

They were each rather thick books, and although he had never tried to learn a second language before, he felt he had the proper motivation now. “Thank you, Esme. Can I ask for another favor?”

“Of course, _Corpyr_!”

“Tell me what _Corpyr_ and…‘ _srelir_ ’ mean?” It was difficult to pronounce the word even though he'd heard it often. 

Esme, to his amusement, looked flustered. “ _Corpyr_. It is a title...like a companion of an important official. A term to designate your status. You are important to the _Litr_ and _Liry_. You are theirs. They have claimed you.” 

That...didn't tell him much. Esme's Common wasn't perfect, so he doubted she was being purposely vague. The dictionary would likely be more helpful, but since he'd already asked for her help, he let her continue. 

“ _Srelir_ is...its literal translation is ‘a tamed creature kept for companionship or pleasure,’ but I do not think this is the meaning _Litr_ Salas has in mind.” A faint blush crept into her cheeks. “It can also be used as an endearment by a lover.”

Either definition fit their bedroom activities, so that told Tavion nothing for sure. “Thank you, Esme, and thank you for the books.”   
She beamed. “It is my pleasure, _Corpyr_.”

As she returned to cleaning, he opened up the beginner book and began lesson one. It was weird to work while someone cleaned around him—it felt rude—but he knew it was best not to interrupt her chores. 

 

After studying for a few hours, he woke to the sound of knocking on the door. As he sat up, book tumbling off of his chest, Esme entered. 

“The _Litr_ is ready for you.”

Right. Moro. “Thank you, Esme.” After a quick trip to the bathroom to tidy up, he followed her to a new area of the Salas home. 

“In here, _Corpyr_ ,” she said, stopping in front a set of dark double doors. She opened and then closed them behind him once he stepped inside the large room. 

Its decor reminded him of an office, but it lacked a personal touch. Maybe this was just where Jormaine conducted business. A large table sat in the middle of the room, but the stranger wasn’t using it. Instead, he stood with his back to Tavion, looking out the large window. It only took Tavion a moment to decide he must be Starren as he had no features to suggest otherwise. He had peppered, medium length hair and wore formal attire that implied he was doing quite well for himself. 

Moro turned around and gave him a friendly smile that reached his dark brown eyes. The kind of smile that could make you trust a stranger's sincerity. 

Tavion has good instincts—it's what kept him in one piece on the streets—and it was those instincts that warned him to be careful. There was something off-putting about Moro.

_Maybe kindness just makes you paranoid._

Well, that was objectively true. 

“Tavion?”

The man walked forward, eyes fastened upon him. 

“That's me,” Tavion replied, hiding his anxiety. “You're Mr. Moro?”

“Yes. I'm sorry for staring. I...you remind me of my husband. He was like you. Lum'a.”

That may have made others feel more comfortable, but all Tavion heard was that he reminded the man who’d wanted to _buy him_ of his husband. That implication made him cautious. 

“ _Was_?” he repeated. 

Moro looked sorrowful. “He passed away a few years ago.” 

Now Tavion felt like a jerk. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no. Don't be. What an awful way to start a conversation with a stranger. Come. Sit with me.” 

Tavion did, but he kept his guard up. Feeling bad for someone didn't mean you had to trust them. 

As soon as they were sitting, Moro gave a pained smile and spoke. “I'm sorry for that. I had everything I wanted to say planned out. This isn't going as I imagined, and it won't get any better. They won't let us speak for long, so I have be curt. With your permission.”

Tavion wanted to know what this was all about, so he nodded. 

“You can't trust Jormaine Salas.”

Tavion frowned. “Okay…? Why should I believe you? I don't know you any better than him.”

“Fair, but I think how frequently he and his wife visit the Auction House speaks for itself, don't you?”

Jormaine had explained that as their way of helping a select few, and he had even explained the payment they expected in return. Did Tavion believe him? Sorta, yeah. They still bought people though, which brought him to his reply. “So? You were there trying to buy me too.”

Moro didn't seem surprised that he knew. “They told you that so you would distrust me but don't forget that _they_ purchased you. They're guilty of the same crime, at the very least.”

That was true.

“I never intended to hurt you. I’m familiar with Lum'a, as I said. I know the dangers and prejudice you can face. When I recognized what you were, I worried others might do the same. I only wanted to help.”

Tavion didn't know if he believed that, but he had no evidence either way.

“He's not a good man, Tavion. Research him. You have no reason believe anything I say, so I implore you to look for yourself. 

Tavion had no response. What if he did and found things he didn't like? He was bound by the Auction House’s contract. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. 

“Jormaine Salas is preying on your ignorance. He's using you. I suspect he wants you to bear his children, as many would.”

There was a lot to unpack in that statement. Why did Moro suspect that of Jormaine? Was his wife's infertility public knowledge or did Moro simply have access to that information? More importantly, why did he say many others would have wanted him for the same reason? 

“And if he already has expressed that desire?” Tavion asked, careful not to reveal their agreement. 

Moro looked stricken. “I'm sorry for not being able to warn you sooner. If you need a place to run to...”

He slid a piece of paper across the table.

Despite his uncertainty, Tavion pocketed it. If Moro thought Tavion could run, maybe he wasn’t as familiar with the Auction House as Tavion had originally suspected. “The Auction House contracts keep us from running. You know that, right?” 

Moro nodded and surprised Tavion by saying, “I help craft them, so I know how to break them. Use that contact information. If you reach out, I'll have you extracted within a week.”

This Starren was so certain he could infiltrate Jormaine Salas’ home and take Tavion away? Was he powerful or idiotic? 

“Think about what I've said, Tavion.” Then, Moro pulled out a packet of aged papers, stained and frayed. “Here. This is my husband's account of his first and only pregnancy. If Jormaine asks, tell him this is why I wished to meet with you.”

Tavion tentatively took it, holding the papers gingerly. As if he might absorb the knowledge just by being in close proximity to it. He was nowhere near ready to read such an account. 

Wait. Why did Moro think he needed information on this subject? How did he know Tavion parents hadn't taught him? 

Moro swept from the room before he could ask, leaving Tavion to unwillingly dwelling on their confusing conversation.


	8. Heat

Over the next few weeks, he unintentionally established a routine. Doing the same thing every day should have been mundane, but Tavion found himself immersed in his new life. He spent his morning meals with the Salases, had the day to study and do as he pleased, ate dinner with Salases, and then retired to the bedroom with Jormaine. 

The Avvai lord took him every night and occasionally did so multiple times in a single scene. The only thing that changed was how Jormaine had him. Against the wall, bent over the bed, on his hands and knees. Tavion loved everything they tried. In the back of his mind, he knew he was in danger of developing unprofessional feelings, but he had no idea how to keep distance between him and the man who tore down his barriers every night—who shattered him until he was a writhing and incoherent mess—and helped rebuild him. 

Though he never forgot the things that worried him, they seemed so distant when Jormaine was pounding into him from behind—whispering provocative words as he did—or letting him sleep on his wing as he drifted off. 

Jormaine gave him something he never knew he craved, and with it, he grew. 

Similarly, his concern about Moro faded into the background. After their meeting, he'd only told Jormaine and _Liry_ Salas a fraction of the truth. He'd disclosed that Moro had correctly speculated about their reproduction contract and wanted to deliver information on what to expect. They hadn't been pleased to hear that, and Jormaine had asked to see the papers. Since Tavion was in no hurry to read them—indeed, he would be happier if he never had need of them—he'd happily handed them over. 

With each coupling, his concern about pregnancy diminished. He'd been afraid it would be a quick, certain thing, but each day that passed with no change soothed his anxiety. Maybe it would take months. 

Or maybe Tavion wasn't fertile. 

That possibility filled him with a new source of anxiety. How long would the Salases remain patient? If he couldn’t produce a child quickly, would they toss him aside? The idea of losing Jormaine’s attention made him feel things he didn’t want to dissect. In the end, he knew there was no use speculating, so he tried to focus on the present. 

When he wasn't with Jormaine, he was studying for his upcoming exam or learning Avvai, which he was making slow progress with. _Liry_ Salas also took time before each meal to teach him proper table etiquette, and both Salases continued to push him to use proper grammar. When he finally snapped and asked why they bothered, Jormaine had a very simple answer. 

“People judge each other for a number of things. Especially those that they can't help, and poverty is one of them. The poor are looked down upon, and if you wish to distance yourself from that, to build a reputation based only on your merits, this will help you.”

That made sense. Tavion wouldn't say he cared what others thought, but he hated being bullied and teased for being poor. 

He'd gotten enough of that in school. 

In a way, studying Avvai was part of his transformation. The problem was that there were things he wanted to say to Jormaine that beginner lessons wouldn't teach him, and he wasn't about to ask Esme for help. 

“ _Hello, Esme. Can you teach me how to say ‘may I suck your cock’ in Avvai? Thank you.”_

Nope. He most certainly wouldn't be doing that. He would have to find the courage to ask in Common or let sexual frustration slowly drive him mad. 

Discouraged, he discarded the book and headed outside for a walk to clear his head. It wasn't an accident that he happened to do so while he knew Jormaine would be tending to his pets. It probably wasn't wise to indulge his desire to be near the Avvai as often as possible, but he couldn't help himself. So, when he spotted the winged man, he approached at a leisurely pace.

Jormaine was kneeling beside one of the yols—Tavion still couldn't tell them all apart—and was examining its leg while the others watched. 

“Hello, darling,” Jormaine said in Avvai without turning around. 

Tavion scowled at the greeting, slow to process the foreign language but understanding it nonetheless. “I'm not your wife.”

Jormaine glanced fleetingly over his shoulder to smirk. “I know.” 

Tavion blushed and was thankful that Jormaine had turned away to finish tending to the yol. 

“You have been learning Avvai,” Jormaine commented when he was done inspecting his pet, sounding quite pleased. He stood and turned fully to face him, wings glinting like gold in the sunlight. 

Tavion tried and failed not to stare. Really, it wasn't right how good-looking Jormaine was. “Yeah,” he said, forcing himself to acknowledge Jormaine's comment. 

“What did you need, _srelir_?”

Tavion ignored the heat that washed over him at the use of the nickname and scoffed. “I came out to see the yols. Not you.” Which was easily disproved by the fact that he'd directly approached the Avvai lord, and they both knew he wasn’t comfortable enough with the yols to visit them. 

As if in agreement, the yol beside Jormaine gave him a look. 

It was especially irritating to be judged by an animal. 

Jormaine chuckled. “So, if I ordered you to your hands and knees here and now, _srelir_ , you'd say no?” 

They'd never played these games in the open before, and it sent a thrilling rush down his spine. Was it the fear of getting caught or the way Jormaine’s tone promised sinful delights? When he said such provocative things, Tavion found it hard to say no.

The worst part of it was that Jormaine knew how much he loved it.

“Anyone could walk in on us and see you serving me as you're meant to serve. My breeder, my pleasure salve.” 

Tavion shivered. Part of him still recoiled at being objectified, but a larger part of him now understood it was only a part of their game. 

“Would you like that, _srelir_?” Jormaine demanded to be answered. 

“Yes, master.” Just the thought made him hard. He desperately wanted to taste Jormaine as he’d tasted Tavion, but he lacked the confidence to be explicit. “Please let me serve you.”

Jormaine considered him before sending the yols away with a nonverbal command. They rushed off, yapping as they did, but the Avvai had eyes only for Tavion. “On your knees.” 

Tavion instantly obeyed, knees hitting the grass in a heartbeat. It wasn't until Jormaine unveiled his hard length that Tavion realized his master had understood his request. 

The Avvai lord beckoned him forward, and heat swept through him when he was forced to crawl to close the space between them. He didn't hesitate to wrap his lips around Jormaine experimentally, the soft flesh a sensual treat on his tongue. One day soon, he vowed to do this leisurely, to explore every, lick, and savor, but right now he had a duty to perform. So, he dove in, taking the hard member deep and adjusting until his nose brushed Jormaine’s flesh. The rich, musky scent was as arousing as his own submission. He felt himself grow harder, but he focused on his task. 

Careful to guard his teeth, he began to move, taking as much of his master's cock as he could before pulling back and repeating the motion. It was clumsy at best, but Jormaine seemed pleased. 

It was more difficult, more taxing, than he’d anticipated, but what he lacked in experience, he made up for with enthusiasm. He’d been imagining this since their second coupling, after experiencing it himself for the first time. Jormaine had made him come undone, and he wanted to learn how to do the same for him. 

Jormaine's hands settled on the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. Though Tavion fully expected him to take control—to fuck his mouth at the pace he desired—he didn't. He let Tavion continue. It took him quite a bit of time, but the Avvai didn't seem to mind. He made encouraging, pleased sounds that fueled Tavion's desire. Every breathless moan sent a rush of triumph through his veins. 

With no verbal warning, Jormaine came, emptying himself down Tavion’s throat. That caught him off guard, and he nearly choked. He hadn't expected Jormaine to finish this way. In fact, he had expected the man to pull out, plunge into his body, and finish inside of him. That he hadn't suggested that Jormaine really did think of him as more than a _breeder_. 

Why did that fill him with jubilation? 

To show his appreciation, he quickly recovered and eagerly swallowed every drop, savoring the unique taste of the Avvai that captivated him. 

Tavion knew his infatuation—yes, that's what it was—would be disastrous, but there was nothing to be done. It was too late to guard against it, so why not enjoy the ride?

He spent the rest of the day (until dinner) trying to study, but he couldn’t stop dwelling on the taste and feel of Jormaine in his mouth. By the time dinner was done, Tavion was determined to experience it again. He almost always awaited Jormaine on his hands and knees, but this time, when Jormaine entered the chambers, he crawled forward. 

Jormaine understood the unspoken request, and he let Tavion explore and tease him with his mouth until, overcome with desire, he bent Tavion over the bed and brought them both to ecstasy. 

 

After a night of pleasure, Tavion woke alone the next morning. That wasn't a new occurrence. Jormaine couldn't lie in bed all day and often disappeared long before he rose. What was odd was the chill that rushed through him. Tavion felt...off. His head felt hot. He was sweating and shivering all at once, and he'd been sick often enough to recognize the symptoms. Living on the streets didn't exactly make for a healthy existence. 

On top of that, the unexpected and overbearing urge to curl up in a pile of pillows and blankets made him forgo routine. Instead of getting up, he arranged all of the pillows around himself and then used the blanket to make a cocoon. 

The plush, warm wedding brought him comfort but no relief from whatever ailed his body. Within a few moments, he fell asleep in a fortress of bedding. 

 

He awoke sometime later to a familiar voice—one he’d never heard it in these chambers. It felt wrong. Like an intrusion. No, that wasn't fair. This entire house was hers, but a possessive and protective instinct crept over him at the realization she had invaded his soft fortress. 

Tavion jerked away from her hand on his forehead. 

A murmur came in Avvai, but his brain was too groggy to translate it. Esme. That was her voice. 

_Liry_ Salas answered the unknown question, and then she spoke Common. “Tavion? You must tell me how you're feeling. Your markings have darkened. I don't know what that means.”

Tavion hardly registered her words. He just wanted Jormaine. Why were they here? He didn't want them here. “Hot,” he said. No, that wasn't right. He felt cold. That's why he was shivering, right? 

“Jormaine?” he tried to ask. It belatedly occurred to him that he probably shouldn't have referred to him so familiarly to his wife. 

“He's away on business,” she replied. “I've left him a message, but he may not see it right away.”

Tavion gave a dissatisfied whine. He couldn't explain why he needed Jormaine, but his instincts demanded him and would settle for nothing else. 

_Liry_ Salas laid a hand on his cheek and made a soothing sound. “Esme is going to call for doctor. I won't take chances with your health.”

Her tenderness pacified something inside of him. Though he still longed for Jormaine’s commanding touch, he was able to close his eyes and drift off. 

 

He drifted in and out as voices talked around him. _Liry_ Salas and a male's voice spoke back and forth in Avvai, much too fast for him to understand even if he cared to try. 

Tavion protested the poking and prodding that followed. They continued even when it became clear he lacked the concentration to answer their questions and demands. 

“Describe how you're feeling.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Tavion, focus. You must tell the doctor if you've been ill like this before.”

“Have your markings ever changed color in the past?” 

“I'm going to take a blood sample now. Don't be alarmed.”

They must have been satisfied with their findings because they eventually stopped, and blissful silence reigned. 

 

It was dark when he next opened his eyes. A hand gently threaded his hair, and he met Jormaine's gilded gaze. Heat washed over him at the magnificent sight, pooling in his gut and making him restless with need. In an instant, he was wide awake. Not even a hint of exhaustion lingered.

“How are you feeling, _srelir_?” 

The nickname only fed his growing desire, and he leaned into Jormaine's hand, greedy for more. 

“Answer me. How are you feeling?”

The demand in his tone was gentler than usual, but Tavion was no less eager to obey. 

“Yearning,” he replied, shivering. All he wanted as the Avvai lord to join him in his nest, and he tugged on the man’s hand to make his demands known. 

He'd never seen Jormaine frown before, so it took Tavion a moment to recognize the foreign expression on his master's face. “ _Srelir_ , the contract can wait.”

Tavion made a dissatisfied sound because communicating was difficult. He didn’t want to wait. Why did they have to? 

_Liry_ Salas came into view as she stepped forward and placed a hand on Jormaine’s shoulder. “Daring, the doctor advised that we trust his instincts.” 

Jormaine switched to Avvai—his tone harsh—but Tavion was attuned to their conversation now. He thought he picked up words such as “won’t” and “him” but wasn’t sure. 

Her expression hardened, emerald-hued wings spreading ever so slightly. When she replied, she did so very pointedly in Common. “Then explain it to him, and do not return to me until you do.” 

Instead of exiting with a flourish, she approached Tavion. “Jormaine will tend to you for as long as you need, dear.” She shot a sharp look towards her husband before strolling from the room. 

Tavion had no idea what was going on, and it was hard to care. He should care, he knew, but his mind and body were aligned with a single-minded desire. 

Jormaine, who had been watching his wife until the door closed, finally turned to Tavion appraisingly. He looked far from pleased, but after a few moments, his expression softened. “I need you to focus, _sreliri_. If you can do that, I will reward you. Understand?” 

His tone implied this reward was exactly what Tavion craved, so he nodded vigorously. “Yes, master,” he added, remembering to use his words. Jormaine preferred when he did that. 

“Do you remember the doctor visiting you?” 

Tavion knew he had, but he had no specific recollection. It was a haze. “No, master.” 

“You weren’t lucid enough to answer Adeleena, so he came to evaluate you. I’ll be direct because I don’t believe you have the attention span for anything else. The doctor believes you are in the Lum'a equivalent of heat. I should stress that we lack an abundance of resources to properly—” 

Tavion struggled to process, struggled to listen. Heat. Later, when he wasn’t drowning in need, he would be horrified. 

“ _Sreliri_.” Jormaine’s sharp tone snatched his attention, and Tavion met simmering, gold eyes. “This is important. Can you tell me if you believe the doctor is right?”

He’d never had one before. If his kind was prone to heats, wouldn’t they be consistent? Regardless, Tavion didn’t care, and he didn’t understand why Jormaine did either. “Why?” he managed to ask. 

“Because if you’re being driven by instinct, you cannot consent. We did not know this when we created the contract. When this passes, we can amend—”

Tavion stopped listening. He was cold, hot, and hard all at once, and he wasn’t going to let Jormaine dismiss him so easily. The Avvai was standing close enough for Tavion to touch, so he did. He boldly intertwined their fingers and—while shivering with need—used all of his focus to say, “I consent.” 

He didn’t know if the doctor was right or wrong, and he didn’t care. All he knew was that he needed his lover inside of him. 

Jormaine’s expression was unreadable, but he didn't pull away. To his relief, Jormaine didn’t dismiss him. “Tell me what you need, _sreliri_.”

Tavion needed everything Jormaine had to give. The tenderness in his expression only fueled Tavion's lust. He loved their games, but seeing proof that Jornaine cared for him was intoxicating on a new level. 

“You, master,” he replied. 

Jormaine didn't reply right away, but he eventually reached a decision. “Do you remember your safe words and signals?” 

“Yellow, red,” Tavion recited with the accompanying gestures. 

“Well done, _sreliri_ ,” Jormaine praised. “Now strip.” 

Tavion hurriedly complied. His head still felt hot but not feverish, so he ignored it and focused on his master. 

Jormaine's eyes traced his body, and Tavion looked at himself to see what had caught his attention. He was surprised to see his tribal-like markings had changed color and were now a deep indigo. That had never happened before, and he had the presence of mind to realize it was another thing he _should_ be worried about.

“On the bed. Face down.” 

Tavion obliged, thrilled by the commanding tone. 

Jormaine's fingers traced his spine, and Tavion whined, wanting him to move his exploration further south. 

“Not yet, _sreliri_. I’ve managed to acquire such a rare, beautiful Lum'a—in season no less. I would be a fool to risk you escaping.”

Tavion wanted to say he had no intention of trying to escape, but then he recognized it as another part of their game. 

Jormaine kept a hand on the back of his neck, keeping him in place as he opened the drawer beside the desk opened and pulled out a rattling chain. Then, he moved Tavion’s hair aside to reveal the collar around his neck. With a metallic click, Jormaine released the back of his neck and made sure he was watching as he locked the chain into place—securing it to the middle of the headboard. 

Tied to the bed until Jormaine released him. He could think of nothing better. It gave him little room to move backwards, but Jermaine wasn't done. He slipped away, and when Tavion looked over his shoulder to watch, Jormaine swatted him on the rear.

“That's five you've earned yourself, _sreliri_ , and five more every second you're not face down.”

With his skin still tingling from the slap, he quickly obeyed. Rough hands pulled his legs apart as far as they could comfortably go and then tied them, securing then into place once he was spread wide. Next, Jormaine forcibly pulled his arms towards the headboard, tied his hands together, and fastened them to the same place as the collar. 

Being so vulnerable wasn't enough. Tavion needed Jormaine inside of him, needed to ease the aching desire, so he tested the restraints to make his impatience known. 

“Nowhere to go, _sreliri_. Nothing to do but take what I give you.” 

Feathered brushed against his bare back, tracing downwards teasingly. Then, without warning, Jormaine struck him five times, as promised. Tavion reflexively fought, but his bonds held him tight. His flesh continued to sting as Jormaine placed a pillow under him, lifting his rear up into a more desirable position. 

“You can’t think of anything else except your need for me, can you?” he murmured, a delighted edge to his tone. “Nothing but the desire to be filled, to be bred.”

Tavion tried to push back into Jormaine, but his bonds held him tight. 

“Do you crave to be with child, _sreliri_?” he purred into Tavion’s ear. 

It sent a delightful shiver down his spine. “Please,” he begged. He wanted to give Jormaine everything he wanted and more. _Needed_ to. 

When he felt Jormaine kneel on the bed behind him, he whined in anticipation, but his master only continued to trace his indigo markings, tormenting him with the occasional brush of his feathers. Then, he shifted his attention to Tavion's rump, caressing his fingers around his entrance and between his legs—over and over until Tavion was writhing with need. 

Only then did Jormaine take pity on him, seizing him by the hips, aligning his hard length to Tavion's entrance, and slamming inside with a desperate, hard thrust. No preparation. Only lubrication. Just like they preferred for these sessions. 

He rode Tavion hard, fucking him as if it was their first and last time. Tavion savored every second, but his restraints kept him from eagerly participating. Instead, he was at the mercy of his master. A body to take pleasure from and nothing more. With his legs spread so wide, Jormaine had complete access to him, and every thrust seemed to reach his core. 

He writhed, aching his back and curling his toes every time Jormaine slammed into him. He came first, and when his muscles clamped around Jormaine, the Avvai groaned, stilled, and emptied himself into Tavion’s eager body. 

It did nothing to ease his desire. He needed _more_. 

At his dissatisfied whine, Jormaine ran a hand through his hair. “Don't worry, _sreliri_. I'm not done with you yet.”

 

Over the next week, Jormaine tended to Tavion's every need. Though he only craved to be filled, his master did not restrict himself. He didn't let an inch of Tavion go neglected, stroking, caressing, kissing, fucking. 

Every morning, after being fucked into a blissful sleep, he awoke Jormaine with needy pleas, always desperate for more.

Twice a day, Jormaine would release him from his bonds and help him to the washroom. Once a day, they would bathe together. Bath sex was Tavion's new favorite treat, one of the few times Jormaine completely stripped for him. Supple muscle, powerful, gilded wings—Tavion couldn't get enough, and Jormaine let his hands roam his entire body without restraint, content with the worship. 

When Jormaine needed a break, he had Esme bring them food. Tavion didn't feel hunger—only need—but it was impossible to resist the luxury of eating from Jormaine’s hand, of letting his master feed him one bite at a time. 

He wasn’t ready for it to end. 

 

On the ninth morning, he woke to aching muscles, sticky skin, and Jormaine sleeping beside him. He felt exhausted, and the need that had been his constant companion had ebbed. Everything was a haze, and that made him nervous. 

When he groggily sat up, Jormaine did the same. Tavion couldn't tell if he'd already been awake or if he’d woken him. He also didn't care. His overused body protested every movement, and he desperately wanted a shower. 

As soon as his feet hit the cool floor, Jormaine followed suit. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. 

Tavion frowned and turned to see the Avvai was gesturing to his midnight blue markings, but he didn't understand. With a frown, Tavion asked, “Why?”  
“What do you remember?” 

“I'm guessing we…” He fumbled for the word, finding it hard to verbalize with Jormaine standing naked in front of him. 

“We did,” Jormaine confirmed. “Many times over the last week, in fact.” 

_A week?_ A _week_ had passed? 

Tavion listened in horror as Jormaine filled him in on what his brain had been too preoccupied to digest. Heat. He had gone into _heat_! He was utterly mortified, disgusted with himself and his biology. What had triggered it? Why had this been the first time it happened? _Had_ it been the first time, he wondered? He hardly remembered it happening. What if this had occurred before, but he had no recollection of it? Without knowing what had triggered it, how could he avoid repeating it?

“How did the doctor even figure it out?” he dared ask. Had Tavion done something embarrassing that that clued him in? By the stars, he hoped not. He wasn't sure how much more embarrassment he could take. 

Jormaine paused. “We contacted your mother.” 

The world came to a stop, and white hot rage cloaked him. He wanted to snarl and snap and scream, but he only clenched his fists, turned on heel, and locked himself in the bathroom. After a few moments, he heard the doors to the hallway open and close. 

Finally alone, Tavion sat in the shower sobbing, using the running water to mask his pain from those that had betrayed him. 

How dare they contact his mother whom he hadn't spoken to in years. How dare she help them, answer questions he hadn’t ever known to ask, as if she cared about him at all. How dare she let him face life without knowing who and what he was. 

As angry as he was about all of that, what truly stuck out in his mind was that his mother's confirmation—that what he'd just endured was _heat_ —almost guaranteed he was pregnant. 

Tavion let himself cry.


	9. Withdraw

For three days, Tavion hide away in his chambers. The first day, he was on edge, awaiting and fearing the Avvai lord's nightly visit. 

But, to his surprise, Jormaine didn't come. 

Then again, why would he? He'd very likely gotten what he wanted, so there was no point in further nightly couplings. 

Being discarded hurt more than he'd anticipated.

Neither Salas came to see him--which he was thankful for--but they insisted on sending Esme with food more often than usual. Despite his melancholy, he ate well, tempted by the fresh sweets and savory treats. His body needed to refuel, and refusing food seemed petty. 

On the second day, when he had grown tired of wallowing and couldn't sleep, he read for hours on end, escaping from the reality he had no means of fixing. Studying was beyond him, but reading tales of fiction wasn't. That's how he spent the next day as well, curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets, reading and hiding. 

On the fourth morning, Jormaine swept through the double doors with a flourish. 

Tavion tensed and tried to hide his apprehension behind a glare. “Don't you have yols to rescue or servants to buy?” 

His barbs went unacknowledged. “Get dressed,” Jormaine said curtly. “You're coming to breakfast.”

“No.” He wasn't ready to face the world beyond his chambers, and he didn't want to be around Jormaine. “Go away.”

“If you won't come willingly, I'll simply carry you there as you are.”

Jormaine stepped forward, and Tavion scrambled backwards, having no interest in being manhandled. 

“Okay!” he spat, knowing Jormaine never made threats he didn't intend to keep.

He grabbed clothes, stormed to the bathroom, and slammed the door. He'd bathed long before the sun had risen, retreating there to cry in peace as he often did the last few days, but he debated getting another one just to delay and annoy Jormaine. 

After he dressed, he lingered in the bathroom, trying to compose himself. No doubt the Salases wanted to discuss his potential pregnancy, and why wouldn't they? That was the entire point of the contract, the entire point of their their nightly activities. As much as he abhorred the reality of possibly being pregnant, it was the uncertainty that laid between him and Jormaine that he dreaded more. 

Now that Jormaine may have gotten what he wanted, their time together would be limited to clinical interactions no doubt. 

_You're such an idiot. You knew this wasn't meant to be romantic. This wasn't meant to last._

Tavion took a breath. In time, his crush on Jormaine would fade. He just had to focus on completing the contract and collecting his fee. Then he could leave and never look back. 

Jormaine was waiting for him when he exited the bathroom, and Tavion scowled. “I don't need an escort,” he snapped. 

“Clearly you've forgotten the way there because we haven't seen you in days.” 

Tavion bit back a snort. As if Jormaine had _missed him_. “Beg your pardon, _master_. I didn't know my recovery was such an inconvenience.” 

Bits and pieces of his time with Jormaine during his heat had come back to him over the last few days. Not much. Just vague impressions. Enough to know Jormaine had been rough with him. If he could use that to imply he was still recovering, maybe he could buy himself a few more days of solitude.  
Gilded eyes narrowed. “Three days is adequate.”

What he really meant was that three days was more than he'd previously given Tavion after an intense session. “Yeah, well, we never spent days fucking nonstop before.”

Jormaine gave him a displeased look. Whether it was at his choice of words or at his tone Tavion didn't know. “Are you still having discomfort?” 

He wasn't, Tavion latched onto the presented excuse. “A bit,” he lied. 

Jormaine's expression turned inscrutable. “I'll have an appointment made with the medic immediately.” 

He bit back a curse. Oh, Jormaine was clever, and Tavion had just walked willingly into his trap. “I think I just need to rest.”

“Unfortunately, I'll have to insist,” Jormaine replied. “Under the rights granted by the contract.”

Tavion could think of no argument better than that; Jormaine had him beat. He sighed and acquiesced. “I'm fine. Can we just go to breakfast?” 

Jormaine inclined his head and led the way to the dining room. It was obvious from his quick concession that he'd known Tavion was lying about being unwell. Being so casually outplayed was just another humiliation to add to the list. Really, it was nothing new at this point. 

Tavion trudged after him, sullen and unable to hide it. 

_Liry_ Salas looked up as they entered the dining room. “Good morning, Tavion.” 

“Good morning, _Liry_ Salas,” he mumbled as he sat, eyes feasting upon the foods that awaited him. It didn't escape his notice that an array of his favorites surrounded his designated seat. Such a clear demonstration of care made him uncomfortable because he knew it was manipulative. It had to be. 

“I think we know each other well enough now, wouldn't you so say? Call me Adeleena.”

Tavion didn't know what she was basing their closeness off of, but there was no polite way to refuse such a request (even if he wanted to). “Thank you,” he said lamely. 

When Jormaine took his seat, Tavion began to serve himself, piling fruits and little creamy sandwiches onto his plate. He caught Jormaine staring at him more than once, and it made him bristle. What did he want? Why was he watching him so closely?

Pointedly ignoring the Avvai lord, he looked to Adeleena. The problem was that he couldn't bring himself to make small talk. It would sound as forced as it felt, and he didn't want to disrespect her. Since there was really only one thing on his mind—his potential pregnancy—he said, “May I have those papers from Moro back?” 

Adeleena met his eyes with a hesitant look and set her utensils down, but before she could answer, Jormaine cut in. 

“I don't think that's wise.”

Tavion gave him a hostile look for interrupting them. “Why?” he snapped. 

“Watch your tone, _sreliri_.”

Before Tavion could retort, Adeleena intervened with a reproachful tone. “Enough, my dears.”

Tavion gaped at the term of endearment, in Common no less!

Turning back to Tavion, she took advantage of the silence to calmly say, “We cannot guarantee the authenticity of the papers, Tavion. Alever Moro has no record of a husband. He's an immigrant, so it's possible he had one before coming here. So far, no one has been able to verify that. All we know for sure is that he has a twenty-seven year old son, Reylan Moro whom shows no signs of Lum'a heritage.”

“So, what you're saying is that it could be a fabrication? Why would he do that?” Why go through the effort? Tavion wasn't anything special, but he had to admit that Moro's behavior was suspicious.

“We don't know if or why he would lie,” Jormaine interrupted, “But rest assured that I intend to find out.”

Tavion hated that he felt better by that promise. He was supposed to be mad at Jormaine. Not being reassured by him! 

Just to be contrary, Tavion said, “Yanno, it's possible that he isn't lying.” Not that he believed that. He was suspicious of everyone on principle.  
Jormaine didn't seem pleased by his comment. “Alever Moro is a businessman. He isn't a bystander doing his civic duty, and he cannot be trusted.”

“Funny. That's what he said about you,” Tavion retorted.

Golden eyes narrowed. “Indeed? I thought you said you only discussed his ex-husband, and then he gave you those papers.”

Tavion mentally cursed himself for revealing the lie. His frustration with Jormaine caused him to make careless mistakes. He needed to be more careful. “Yeah, well, he made some implications too. That isn't the po—”

“Not the point? He wants something from you, Tavion, and—”

“Oh, you mean like how you do?” Tavion snapped. “Just because I can have kids doesn't mean that's all anyone wants from me. That's just what _you_ want me for.” 

As he stormed out of the room, he heard Adeleena furiously chiding Jormaine in Avvai, but he didn't stop to listen. He didn't stop until he was back in his chambers, locked in the bathroom alone and safe. 

After a few minutes, he started to feel ridiculous for hiding where he was, so he came out—and was met by Adeleena. She sat patiently in a chair near the windows that gave a perfect view of the grounds, but her calm gaze was on Tavion. 

He froze, wishing he'd stayed in hiding. 

“Tavion. I hope I'm not intruding.”

He might be a streetrat, but he knew what the right answer was. “Not at all,” he assured her. If his lie wasn't enthusiastic, well, it wasn't his fault. 

“Please come sit.”

There wasn't a point in refusing, so he did as she asked while trying not to look at her. 

“Would you like some _tao_?” Tavion’s frown was enough to prompt her to add, “A slightly sweet drink served hot. It's a favored drink of the Avvai, served between meals, and there are different blends for different occasions.”

A warm drink sounded nice. “What blend would be right for this occasion?” he asked with a humorless laugh. What did one drink with the wife of the man who may have gotten you pregnant? 

The corners of her lips twitched. “The soothing kind.”

That sounded about right. “I could use some soothing right now,” he admitted. 

“I do believe that is the most honest thing you've ever said to me,” she said wryly. Then, she called out Esme's name towards the door. 

The servant popped her head in. “Yes, my _Liry_?” 

“Some _jin tao_ please.”

Esme bowed her head and hurried off. 

Tavion expected her to speak, to say what she'd intended to say as soon as they were alone, but she didn't. Not even when Esme returned, served the _tao_ , and left. 

_Tao_ , it turned out, was various dried leaves. Different effects were made by blending different herbs, and whatever comprised this soothing blend was delicious. Faintly sweet but not overwhelmingly so. 

Tavion held the cup with both hands, enjoying the warmth seeping into his palms as he sipped it slowly. 

“Do you like it?” 

He met Adeleena's knowing smile. “Yeah. Thanks.” But she hadn't come to introduce him to an Avvai drink. “So, what did you wanna talk about?”

She placed her cup down, as if getting to business. “I spoke with Jormaine. I'm afraid he isn't going to be rational where Moro is concerned, but he's agreed to give you the papers on one condition.”

Tavion wasn't pleased, but he said, “And what's that?”

“Because we can't trust anything that's been written, we want you to speak with your mother about what to expect. That way you have a first hand source for comparison.”

He barked a sardonic laugh. “My _mother_ doesn't deserve that title, and she wouldn't talk to me anyway.”

Adeleena raised a brow, looking so much like her husband that it was eerie. Did they go to the same charm school or something? “On the contrary, she was demanding to see you when we last spoke.”

Tavion didn't know what to think about that. He didn't _want_ to think about that. He couldn't. “I don't want to,” he said quickly. 

“I surmised as much, but the information she has may be invaluable.”

“I _can't_ ,” he replied, loathing how his voice broke. He hated how weak his parents made him feel. He'd grown so much, survived so much, but he still couldn't fathom facing either of then. Some nights, when his mind wandered as he chased sleep, he imagined facing her, imagined what he might say if he had the chance, but those were fantasies. He had no desire to actually do it. 

Tavion had escaped that hell, and he never intended to go back. 

Adeleena’s expression gentled. “You don't have to face her alone. You're under our care, and we could easily put conditions upon her visit.” She broke off, as if giving him a moment to consider it. “If there was another source available, we wouldn't ask you to do this. We know facing her won't be easy.”

“ _Do you_?” he snapped, fear and pain twisting inside of hin. “You don't know--” Tavion cut himself off, not willing to go into specifics. “You don't know what she's done.” And what she hadn't done. 

He expected to see anger at his outburst or, worse, pity, but her expression did not change. “I know she failed you, and that's all I need to know. Children do not reject their parents easily. They crave love, approval, and protection, and when one or more of those is absent, families break apart.”

Tavion looked away, hating that she had surmised that much. Even though she had little to no details, he didn't care to have his family history known. 

When it became clear he did not intend to reply, she said, “In two weeks, we have an appointment with the doctor. Until we know for certain if you're carrying, there's no rush. You don't need to decide today. I just wanted you to have time to think it over.”

Carrying. That word was like a whip in his mind, lashing at his identity, reminding him he was naught but a womb to them. Nothing but a baby maker to the two people who had been the kindest to him in his life. 

How pathetic. 

“You should have chosen someone else.” as soon as the words slipped from his lips, he tensed and wished he could take them back. 

“Tavion, I chose you for a reason,” she surprised him by saying. “They give bidders information prior to auctions, but because you didn't disclose your heritage or submit to a DNA test, you were listed as Starren. Only those familiar with Lum'a would have recognized you, and as soon as I did, you had my interest.”

He snorted. 

Adeleena gave him a displeased look. “If you have no words with which to reply, silence is often the wisest course.” 

Her tone made it sound like she reciting a well-known lesson. Maybe she'd been given that advice in the same place she and Jormaine had learned how to raise eyebrows with an abundance of arrogance. 

Then. she seamlessly continued, “I admit, it was selfish reasons that sparked it. The idea of Jormaine having another woman, even for surrogacy, was difficult for me.” 

He couldn't fathom how gender made a difference, but he didn't comment on it. She was allowed to feel that way about sharing her husband. “So, my best qualification was that I'm not a woman?” Which seemed debatable, depending on how a woman was defined. He didn't say that, however, because he _knew_ it sounded ignorant. 

“I would not have chosen someone for a task this important on that alone,” she replied. “I studied the file of everyone that came through the Auction House for months before I chose you.”

“Because you knew Jormaine would like me,” he added. It wasn't requirement to like someone to make a baby, but it certainly didn't hurt. 

“There was no doubt in my mind he would like you, Tavion, but I chose you because I knew I would like you as well.”

Tavion had no idea what to say to that confession. It couldn't be true. “You didn't even know me.”

“I knew you were resilient, intelligent, and a little impertinent. You wouldn't have survived on the streets otherwise.”

“That last one doesn't sound a compliment,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, I don't know. Jormaine has always enjoyed a little rebellion,” she replied, eyes alight with a hint of mischief. 

He flushed and retorted, “Does he like ‘em uncouth too or am I just extra special?”

Adeleena openly laughed at that. It was a light, delightful sound, and he was surprised by how much he liked it. “We would rather have someone who must be taught table manners than an aristocrat who would betray us for politics.”

It struck Tavion suddenly how much faith they had in him. He couldn't run, sure--the contract made sure of that--but he could betray their secrets and do any number of cruel things while carrying their baby. They couldn't retaliate unless they were willing to risk harming their unborn child. 

“There is one more thing.”

Tavion met Adeleena's gaze.

“Before you decide on whether or not to speak to your mother, you and Jormaine must talk.”

He stiffened. “Why?” 

The hint of sorrow in her expression filled him with trepidation. “It's his belief that you think he took advantage of you during your cycle.”

What? Tavion didn't think that at all. It wasn't as if they'd known Lum'a men could go into heat. If they had, they wouldn't have contacted his mother for information on it. It was feasible that they reached out to her to hide the fact that they already knew, but Tavion didn't believe that was the case. They had to know had badly he would react to the news that they'd spoken to her, and he couldn't see why they would risk alienating him. 

Besides, he'd already agreed to be their surrogate. It they had known about it, they had no reason to hide that information. 

“Why would he think that?” he demanded. 

“Because of your anger towards him.”

Guilt welled, dousing his smoldering anger. He wasn't upset with Jormaine--not really--but the Avvai lord had been a natural target. No, the truth was that he was furious with his mother, his biology, and himself. 

“I'll talk with him,” he promised, but he had no idea how he would broach the subject. 

His word was apparently enough because she inclined her head and smiled lightly. “Wonderful. Now tell me how your Avvai lessons have been going. Last I heard, you were making tremendous progress.”

The praise made him blush again, and as they drank their _tao_ , she drilled him on vocabulary, correcting his enunciation when necessary. He took a chance and asked her to translate words he was curious about, adding them diligently to his notes. 

They talked for well over an hour, and not once did she attempt to ask him personal questions. Instead, after the Avvai lesson, she told him bits and pieces about herself. 

She came from a small but well-off family, and her marriage to Jormaine had been arranged without her input. Jormaine and Adelenna had apparently met at a gala, and she must have made quite an impression because less than a week later, he met with her father to request her hand in marriage. 

“So quick?” Tavion asked. He couldn't fathom that. 

“Yes, I can see how that might appear strange to you, but it was what I’d been raised to expect. I'd known all my life that my parents planned for me to marry well--to further their connections--and no one could do that better than Jormaine Salas. As far as I was concerned, it could have been worse.”

For a moment, Tavion wondered if he could live such a life--if he could trade freedom for security--and then he realized he all but had. Yes, their contract was far short, but he had made sacrifices for security. 

He couldn’t judge her choice when she hadn't judged him for his.

“So, when did you start to love him?” he boldly asked. It was clear she did, and maybe it was too personal to ask, but he had to know. Maybe it would validate or invalidate his own feelings for Jormaine. 

She gave him an inscrutable look but eventually said, “It was when he brought home the a girl from the Auction House. The first one since we had gotten married. She was so young, and I feared he intended to bed her. What else could such a rich, powerful man want with a young woman?”

It said something about their experiences that Tavion knew he would have made the same assumption. 

“That night, though I was afraid of the consequences, I confronted him. He was appalled at the accusation.”

Tavion could almost imagine it. The parallels between that and his accusations against Jormaine were so similar. Maybe he _did_ fit Jormaine's type. 

“He told me that he'd bought her contract to spare her a harsher master. I didn't believe him, so he brought in one of the servants to confirm it and explain how Jormaine had done the same for him. Jormaine then divulged that his visits to the Auction House have always been to buy contracts of those he felt he could help.”

It was brilliant. What better way to earn someone's loyalty than to build them up from their lowest point? Yes, Jormaine was helping people, but he was also building contacts and amassing favors. 

Adeleena continued, unaware of Tavion's thoughts. “I loved him from that moment on. The foundation was there beforehand, mind you, but on that day, I made a conscious decision to let myself love him.”

Tavion's heart twisted at her words, and though he wished he was free to do the same, the idea of causing a rift in their marriage repulsed him more than ever before. 

He forced a smile, sipped at his _tao_ , and tried to swallow his shame.

 

Once Adeleena left, he spent the rest of the day dreading the conversation he needed to have with Jormaine. After dinner seemed the most appropriate, but he still had no idea how to bring it up. Any attempts to plan what he would say ended up frustrating him more. By the time they were done eating, he’d decided the direct approach would be best. Mostly because he was tired of fretting over how to open the discussion, and he wanted it over. 

Adeleena may have sensed his motive because she finished eating first, stood, and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Join me when you're done.”

Jormaine captured her hand and kissed the back of it. “As you wish.”

Tavion pretended not to be watching them.

She left, and then they were alone.

Taking a final bite of a tender, roasted quon, Tavion pushed his plate away, steeled himself, and looked at Jormaine. He didn't wait until the Avvai lord was done eating. If he did, he knew he would lose the courage. 

“You didn't take advantage of me.”

Jormaine calmly placed down his utensils. “My wife has been meddling, I take it?” 

He didn't sound angry, but Tavion didn't want to confirm his suspicion. He shrugged. “Doesn't matter. Problem solved, right?” 

“The problem is not solved,” Jormaine replied. “It isn't that simple.”

“It really is,” Tavion retorted. Of all the possible responses, he hadn't expected Jormaine to insist he was guilty. “I'm the one you're worried you took advantage of, right? So my opinion is the only one that matters. I say you didn't, so you didn't.”

Jormaine gave him a dubious look. “This is a conclusion you reached on your own?”

Adeleena hadn't been kidding. Jormaine really thought he'd done something wrong. “Yup.” 

Whether that assuaged him of his guilt, Tavion wasn't sure, but he seemed to accept it. “I take it Adeleena has also spoken to you about meeting with your mother?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, making a bold, split-second decision. “And I'm gonna do it.”

He was tired of his own biology surprising him.

Time to face it head on.


	10. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two women visit, one at a time.

His courage was short-lived. As soon as a meeting was scheduled with his mother, he existed in a perpetual state of irritation and anxiety. The Salases had done all they could to ensure he would be comfortable with the reunion; they let him choose the location (their home), the time (as soon as possible), and whether he would face her alone (a tentative yes). Though a large part of him saw the wisdom in hiding behind them, he still valued what little privacy he had. 

Despite her reported urgency to see him, his mother couldn't come for five days. Tavion just wanted it over, and until it was, he felt as if he was in limbo. Stuck between the dismal past and an uncertain future.

Jormaine left for a business trip that morning—promising he would be back in time for his mother's visit—which left him and Adeleena alone—minus the array of servants. 

As if aware of his anxiety, Adeleena didn't leave Tavion alone for long stretches of time. She would join him while he studied or ask him to join her in her office. She would have Esme bring them _tao_ , making him try a new blend each day. She even asked his input on things pertaining to her business. 

Tavion had been surprised to find out that she owned her own business. He would have thought Jormaine was the type to want a wife focused only on the household. Now, he was learning Jormaine had encouraged and supported the idea—though Adeleena had refused financial help from him to get it started.

With hard work, Adeleena was now a successful florist. It seemed like a humble profession for a woman of her status, but she clearly enjoyed it. Not only did she have an eye for floral designs, she had a knack for growing exotic plants for all purposes. 

She was currently reviewing the credentials of various contractors. To keep up with the growing demand for certain exotics, she was having a second greenhouse build on the estate. She wasn't completely satisfied with the company that had built the first one, she’d explained to him, so she was looking for another. 

Two days after Jormaine left on his business trip, Tavion shadowed her while she met with a group of potential contractors. To his surprise, not a single one of them were Avvai. Two were Throqnean and one was Sonzarian—a scaled race that Tavion had rarely seen and knew even less about. He found her slightly off-putting due to her muscular tails and talon-like nails but watched in silent interest as they explained their “vision” for her greenhouse. To their credit, they were receptive to Adeleena’s questions and opinions. They clearly had done their research and knew who they were dealing with. 

The second contractors—an Avvai and Ocreol duo—came the next day to give Adeleena a preview of their idea as well as its cost. Tavion thought she would take time to decide which contractors to hire, but she made her mind up on the spot—dismissing the duo and setting up an appointment with the previous group. 

When they arrived the next day, he followed her outside, expecting to meet with them and return indoors. He didn't expect her to remain outside, overseeing the beginning of the construction. He remained with her, procrastinating (he deserved a break from studying) and sneaking fruit that he’d pocketed from the breakfast table to a female yale when no one was looking. 

She had smaller horns than the males of her species and a sweeter temperament, but Tavion most loved her coloration—white speckled with light blue along her spine, shoulders, and thighs. The females were the more colorful gender, but the male yales were quite majestic. Many came in black or dappled in shades of brown. 

By the stars, Tavion was becoming a fool for animals just like Jormaine was. He snorted to himself at the realization as the female yale, Izoym, ate from his hand. He'd never understood the appeal of keeping animals, but he enjoyed the way Izoym made him feel. He knew of a few homeless men and women that had pets. The shelters wouldn’t let them in with their animals, so they chose to brave the elements and remain with their companions. 

Tavion had always dismissed them as fools. 

Now, however…

His father had always preached the uselessness (and wastefulness) of keeping animals as pets, but—like many subjects—Tavion realized he was wrong.

“I see you favor Izoym.”

Tavion startled at being caught by Adeleena. “She's very friendly,” he admitted, reaching out to stroke his palm atop her long snout. She made a sound that he hoped was a happy one. 

“Land-bound races ride them,” she said, smilingly knowingly. 

Tavion didn't bother hiding his horror at the idea. Ride them? A yale likely weighed ten times what he did. _Not gonna happen._

She was smiling at his reaction when a shadow flew overhead. He didn't even have time to look up before an Avvai landed to Adeleena’s right. His orange wings with forest green accents snapped to his back as he bowed deeply. He was a large man, but where Jormaine was well-built, this man was clearly a warrior. Especially if the plasma pistol at his hip was an indicator. He wore a lightweight, fabric armor with the Salas crest upon the shoulder, meaning he was likely one of their permanent employees. 

“ _Fir sitses, Liry_ Salas,” the Avvai said, speaking rapidly. _“Ocao so—”_

Tavion recognized the Avvai greeting, but that was all. Despite the urgency in his tone, when Adeleena replied, she must have ordered him to speak Common because he switched languages. 

“My apologies, _Corpyr_ ,” he said to Tavion, lowering his head.

“It's fine,” he said awkwardly. The title was one thing. Being bowed to was another. 

“Tavion, this is Lirkan,” Adeleena said, introducing them. “No one in the galaxy knows security better than he does.”

Lirkan remained silent despite the stellar assessment, awaiting for his turn to speak. 

If a security guard was here, especially one held in such high regard, did that mean there was a problem? “What's going on?” he asked, on edge. 

Adeleena did not look concerned. “It appears we have a guest causing a scene at the front gate.”

And they couldn't just send the unwanted guest away? “Should we go see who it is?” he asked, trying to guess what the correct course of action was. That didn't seem safe, but why else would Lirkan have come to them?

“It's time for an important lesson, Tavion,” Adeleena said. “You are _Corpyr_ of the Salases.” 

‘Act like it’ went unsaid, but he was too stunned to hear himself included in the Salases to be properly offended. 

“When someone shows up unannounced, you do not rush to greet them— _if_ you greet them at all. They do not dictate your time. Few have the power we do. _We_ dictate.”

The resolute confidence in her tone was empowering. 

She gestured for him to follow, and he did. Lirkan trailed them as they entered the home, using a door Tavion never had before. After a few moments, he realized why. It led to a base of operation for the security team. A large room with dozens of screens, each displaying different areas of the estate from multiple angles. None of the screens showed the rooms of the house, only the hallways, which he was grateful for. He valued his privacy. 

About a dozen men and women sat in chairs, each monitoring a designated section with a single-minded focus. Tavion noted the diversity of the races first: Avvai, Starren, Ocreol, and more. _Then_ , he noticed the woman angrily gesturing on one of the screens. The first word that came to mind was ‘neon.’ She wasn't naturally neon, but her clothes and accessories were mostly bright pink—likely to accentuate her soft pink wings with magenta streaks. 

He squinted at her, almost like he was trying to determine if she was real. 

Adeleena caught his look and laughed. “Yes, Zadra Acosta makes quite a statement, doesn't she?” 

She might have too much tact to say it, but Tavion did not. “Quite a _loud_ one,” he drawled. 

Without disagreeing, she simply watched the screen. They stood that way for a while, watching the woman glare at the camera in silence. Tavion knew they were making her wait, but for how long? 

Eventually, Adeleena stepped forward. The Starren woman at that particular section slid out of the way, ceding control of the station to Adeleena. With a few clicks, she must have enabled a two-way video call because Zadra Acosta made an angry sound and began to speak. 

“Tell your husband—”

Adeleena's expression cooled, and her wings flared wide. 

Tavion had learned early on that an Avvai's wings were expressive, and right now, the _Liry_ was scarcely concealing her agitation. 

“I am _not_ a messenger, Zadra, and I suggest you watch your tone. I took time out of my busy schedule to speak with you.” 

“I didn't ask for _you_ ,” Zadra hissed, wings mirroring Adeleena's posture. The magenta in her feathers caught the sunlight. “I asked to speak with Jormaine. Blame your incompetent security.”

Tavion wanted to point out that their security mustn't have been so incompetent if she didn't dare fly over the metal gate and onto the property uninvited. She had _wings_ , after all. She could theoretically do it. 

“ _Litr_ Jormaine is not here,” Adeleena interrupted her. 

“Liar. He's expecting me.”

Tavion sincerely hoped Jormaine didn't have business with such a gaudy woman, but he conducted business with Moro whom he didn’t seem to care for.

Adeleena didn't appear worried. If anything, she looked bored now. “Perhaps you're mistaken. Surely he would have canceled important prior engagements before leaving for Altair.”

Tavion almost snorted at the implication that Zadra wasn't important and tried to conceal his interest at the mention of the Avvai homeworld. What was Jormaine doing there? Visiting family? Meeting with a business associate?

Zadra made an ugly face. “Out here doing his dirty work, are you? Why bother? Everyone knows you're being replaced by that little whore beside you, and if you're too naive to see it, you deserve what's coming.”

Tavion tensed, cold anxiety creeping down his spine as Zadra tried to turn Adeleena against him. He wasn't trying to come between her and Jormaine! She knew that, right? What was this woman talking about? Where had she gotten that impression? How many people even knew of about his position? 

_Idiot_ , he chided himself. Everyone in the Auction House who had recognized Mykila's face knew who Tavion served. That only left the question of why rumors seemed to suggest he would be _replacing Liry_ Salas. 

When Adeleena didn't reply, Zadra turned away and, with a few precise strokes of her wings, flew away. 

Tavion didn't dare look at Adaleena for fear of what he might see in her expression. 

She turned to Lirkan, voice cool and calm. “If she returns, turn her away. If she refuses to leave, call the authorities. I’ll inform Jormaine.”

Lirkan didn't question her orders. “Yes, _Liry_.”

When she began to walk away, Tavion couldn't think of anything else to do but follow. He wanted to talk, to babble that he wasn't trying to hurt her marriage, but his tongue was in knots. How could he promise her his feelings were professional when they weren't? 

Once they were outside, she stopped and turned to face him. “Do not give Zadra Acosta’s words much thought. She and I have never gotten along, and so long as you have Jormaine's affection, she is an enemy.”

Wait. He had Jormaine's affection? Tavion wanted to inquire after that causal statement, but he couldn't bring himself to. It didn't seem an appropriate time. 

“I won't,” he promised because not only did he know how pointless it was to argue with her but also because it wasn't just Jormaine he wanted to please now. 

Tavion was starting to like his stunningly resolute wife as well. 

 

Days later, he stood before his mother for the first time since he’d run away from home. It helped to know Jormaine and Adeleena were nearby, but he still felt like a child in her presence. She reminded him of when he was weak. Of when he'd accepted his father's abuse because what else could he do? When one of his teachers had tried to report the bruises on his arms to the proper authorities, he had been coached to lie by his mother who also denied the claims that his father had purposely hurt him.

What was new was the feeling of pity when he looked upon her. He was still angry that she hadn't taken him and fled, but after spending time with Adeleena, he could recognize how weak of a person his mother was. 

Logically, he knew it wasn't that simple, but that's how he saw her. Being a parent wasn’t easily, certainly, but the minimum one should be to _try_ to keep them from physical harm. 

Tavion took a breath. This line of thinking wasn’t helping, so he redirected his focus. 

Eiza Talmadge looked worn. Her black hair was peppered, making her appear older than she was. Despite her pale skin and brown eyes, Tavion knew she looked very much like him underneath the glamour granted by the necklace she wore—a simple and cheap-looking piece of jewelry. 

It was clear that she had adorned her best dress to come to the Salas estate, but it was far from perfect. The hem of her dress was frayed, and its royal blue color was faded. He surmised it meant she wasn't better off financially than when he'd left, so wasn't it likely that she was still with his father?

He kept scrutinizing her, looking for a sign that would tell him, but did he really want to know? If she had left him, would he be happy for her or bitter that she hadn't done it sooner?

“So, Lum'a go into heat,” he said abruptly. No greeting. No small talk. No offer to sit and relax. He stood across from her, the perfect picture of pure business. 

Eiza frowned, looking hesitant. “I tried to keep you safe, Tav. I—"

“Don't call me that!” he snapped, refusing to be manipulated with childish nicknames. “Protect me by omitting the truth? Because that worked out _so well_.”

Apprehension marred her features. “When you came of age, I started giving you suppressants,” she admitted. “I would have told you, but you were young and under enough stress—”

He was tired of her excuses. Her excuses had never done them any favors. “If that was true, why didn't... _it_ return after I left?” Despite his bold use of the term earlier, he found the word ‘heat’ distasteful.

_“Where did you live?” she asked softly._

__

Tavion wanted to tell her it wasn't her business—that she had no right to pry—but then he realized she was trying to answer his question. “On the streets.” 

Her eyes watered. “Were we worse than being homeless?”

He met her gaze so she could see and hear his vehement answer clearly. _“Yes.”_

Although she looked deeply hurt, she took a shuddering breath and finally replied. “I doubt you were able to find proper or steady nutrition on the streets. Your body couldn't afford the energy, so it never restarted the cycle once the suppressants wore off.” 

That didn't help him at all. He had to starve himself to avoid such a fate? “How often will it happen?”

“Every month and a half to two months,” she replied. “It's not safe here, son. Come with me. You can't stay here. You can't trust these Avvai. They will use you.” 

Tavion saw no reason to shelter her from the truth of his situation.

She certainly hadn't ever sheltered _him_. 

“I'm not going anywhere with you, and I can't even if I wanted to. I signed a contract with the Auction House. ‘These Avvai’ own me.”

It was so satisfying to see the look of horror on her face. In their neighborhood, it wasn't uncommon for families to lose members to the Auction House. Whether someone was selling themselves, their children, or their wards. It was both a place of opportunity and a place of horror. 

“Tavion…” she whispered sadly, looking lost. 

“If you really want to help, tell me what else you're hiding about our kind. Or are you too ashamed to even do that?” 

“I'm not ashamed, Tav—”

“You're still hiding,” he pointed out, gesturing to her Starren-looking form. 

“For protection,” she insisted.

Tavion shrugged dismissively. “You say that, but no one has hurt me.”

“No one?” she asked gently, a little skeptical. 

He refused to admit that someone had. Especially when he had no idea if he'd been targeted specifically or if it had been bad luck. “You don't have to hide here anyway. They know what you are.”

Eiza recoiled in fear and looked ready to bolt. 

Tavion scoffed, feeling it was an overreaction. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Many things,” she replied without answering. Then, she said, “There's a reason Lum'a are so rare, a reason I taught you to hide.”

“Well, you never told me what that reason was,” he retorted, irritated with her refusal to answer. If she thought he had removed his necklace willingly, he saw no reason to tell her otherwise. Maybe if she realized he wasn't going to blindly obey her, she would finally explain.

She sighed, which irked him. As if she had any right to be exasperated. “Then, I will tell you now. Our homeworld was a peaceful one. Primitive to some, I suppose, because while other worlds developed technologies to thrive, we needed only our magic."

Magic? Tavion already had questions, but he held his tongue. Now that he had finally gotten her to talk, he didn't intent to interrupt her.  
“Our planet was remote, so we remained isolationists...Until the Khreol came.”

He winced. The Khreol had a reputation as a savage race, and they went out of their way to promote it. They were murderers, thieves, conquerors. When a person or corporation wanted something from a planet but couldn't get it the legal way, the Khreol would—for a hefty fee—step in to kill whomever stood in their way. They operated outside the law, never betrayed a client, and had a high success rate. 

“According to those that survived, they never said what they wanted; they only came to kill. Then, when but a few hundred Lum'a were left, they realized we sold well, and the Lum'a slave trade began. By then, because there were so few, we turned into a rare commodity, and what is rare is coveted.”

Horrific as that was, there had to be more to the story. “When did this invasion happen?” 

“When your great-grandmother was young.”

That didn't give him an exact date. Just a rough estimate. “So, you heard this all from her? How do you know it's all true?” Not that he thought his great-grandmother was a liar, but he had good reason to be suspicious of his mother.

Eiza pursed her lips. “Because I was born a slave.”

Tavion’s breath caught in his throat. 

His mother looked away. “My bearer was our master's most prized slave and used him to make more Lum'a. More slaves to sell and trade. It wasn’t uncommon, you see, but they made sure not to flood the market. To ensure our value stayed high.”

As much as he wanted to ask her how she had escaped, if her bearer had escaped, he didn't. It felt too personal. How could he have _not_ known she’d once lived as a slave?

“This is why I tell you to hide, Tavion,” she said, more desperately than before. “That fate could easily await you. Trust no one.”

With his heart beating wildly in his chest at the unexpected history, Eiza removed her necklace. As her glamour faded, she stepped forward to drape it over his head and then stood before him as a near mirror image of himself. 

When he didn't resist, she took his hand, and he let her. If only to ease the pain in her violet eyes. “Contact me when you have more questions.”

Not if. When. At least she remembered his unabashed, relentless curiosity. 

He nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat, and said, “I'll have Esme arrange a ride home for you.”

That would be safer. As much as he was still angry with her, he didn't want to see her hurt.

Without warning, she leaned in for a hug. He stiffened and wanted to pull away, but then he felt her slip something in his pocket.

“Suppressants,” she whispered into his ear. “Enough for a year. Take one every month.”

Then, she pulled back and smiled softly, as if nothing had happened. He had nothing else to say, so he called out to Esme, glad the Salases had made her available in case he needed anything. 

As his mother was escorted away, his fingers played with the simple, hollow circle pendant, and he stared down at his now pale, white flesh—so foreign after years of blue.


	11. Target

To say Jormaine was displeased with his change in appearance would be an understatement. He took one look at Tavion's glamour and, with golden wings flared to half-mast, commanded him to, “Remove it.” 

Even though Tavion preferred his true skin, he refused on principle. “No.”

Jormaine's eyes narrowed. 

Adeleena swiftly intervened, diffusing the tension. “Why don a disguise?” she asked, tone curious and devoid of judgment. 

Tavion wasn't sure how much he should share. It seemed unlikely they didn't know his value as a Lum'a—if his mother was indeed telling the truth. “This was my mom's.” He lifted up the necklace while debating what to say. “She's worried for my safety, so she wanted me to have it.”

They didn't ask why she was worried, and that gave some validation to his mother's words.

Tavion almost wished she’d been lying. That would have made life far easier. 

“We understand,” Adeleena said, “And we support you taking precautions.”

Jormaine retracted his wings, his temper cooling. “Vigilance is a virtue, but you have no reason to hide while on the estate.”

That was true, but Tavion didn't understand why Jormaine cared about his appearance. It wasn't as if they were having sex. The Avvai lord hadn't visited his bed since his heat had ended, and they were rarely even in each other’s company.

Which made sense, he reminded himself bitterly. Why would Jormaine bother with him if he might already be pregnant?

Unable to think of an argument, he finally shrugged noncommittally. “May I be excused?” he asked. “I have some thinking to do.”

Before Jormaine could reply, Adeleena said, “Yes, you may. Good night, Tavion,” in Avvai. 

Tavion caught Jormaine’s displeased look as he slipped away. Guilt bloomed in his chest, but he ignored it and hurried back to his chambers, eager to hide the pills his mother had given him. It felt dishonest to keep them a secret, but he couldn't imagine telling the Salases.

 _A problem for another day,_ he decided. Right now, he was too focused on what his mother had told him. Unfortunately, there was nearly no information on Lum'a available. He'd gotten curious as a boy and had attempted to research them only to find...nothing. After the talk with his mother, he almost understood why, but now he had no way to verify anything she told him. With so much hurt and mistrust between them, he would simply have to take her word for it and hope she wasn't lying or hiding further information. 

_Why can’t anything be simple anymore?_ Ever since he’d signed away his rights at the Auction House, life had been one unwanted surprise after another. 

Not one to dwell long on what couldn’t be changed, he pulled out his book of notes and began to write down everything his mother had told him. 

As Tavion drifted off, he dwelled on that conversation, and when he slept, he dreamt he was the slave of a man with gilded wings. 

 

It was a restless sleep filled with disturbing dreams that took dark turns. The last thing he remembered before waking was Jormaine looking down upon him, expression disdainful as he enunciated every syllable, _“I did not purchase you.”_

Tavion awoke uneasy. Fragmented nightmares and his mother's words of caution followed him as he showered and got ready for the day. By the time he joined Jormaine and Adeleena for breakfast, he felt ready to return to bed. Oddly, when he tried to eat, his stomach felt queasy. He nibbled, hoping neither of the Salses noticed because he was certain he would vomit if made to eat more. 

While he was still picking at his food, Jormaine excused himself to attend to business. With a kiss to Adeleena's cheek—their feathers mingling for a long moment—he swept away, and Tavion felt a twinge of jealousy. 

As soon as Jormaine left the room, he stood abruptly and tried to follow. Adeleena surprised him by lightly placing her hand on his arm when he tried to pass her. He gave her a surprised look, trying to ignore the warmth of her delicate hand. Her skin was as soft as he'd imagined and—woah, wait. _No_ , Tavion told himself sharply. _Don't go there._

“Would you mind assisting me later?”

“Of course not,” he said, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. After a moment, he realized he hadn’t even asked what she needed help with. _Way to look eager._

She smiled, said she would be by later, and let him go. He couldn't determine where Jormaine had disappeared to, so he had to ask a servant and was directed to Jormaine’s study. Was he avoiding Tavion or was he just consumed with work? Regardless, he refused to beg for attention like a needy yol.

Taviob didn't know what he would say if he entered that room, but he knew what he _wanted_ to say.

That's why he turned on heel and left.

 

Jormaine continued to be scarce in the week leading up to the appointment with the medic, so Tavion spent most of his free time with Adeleena. After the greenhouse was set up, she invited him to help her choose which plants to fill it with. She even let him order a few exotics, but she tasked him with researching their care to the best of his ability. He didn't mind the assignment because it gave him something new to do. Better that than sitting around and worrying about the impending appointment. 

Worry that was made worse with the realization that if he wasn't pregnant, he would face his next heat in a few weeks. 

In three days, he would see the medic, but tomorrow was the start of a new month. His mother had instructed him to take a suppressant exactly once a month. If he didn't start this month, would it fail to act in time and fail to prevent his next cycle? 

He didn't dare talk to the Salases about it, didn't dare ask their advice. They might feel that preventing his cycle was a breach of contract. It likely was, but he _couldn't_ go through another heat. It was humiliating and demeaning. 

So, after debating it all day, he retrieved the bag from under the mattress (where he had hidden it), and took out one pill. It looked so small in his palm. A simple white, oval without any identifying letters. For a brief moment, he considered his mother might be lying. These pills might not be suppressants at all, but he trusted she wouldn't try to poison him. If she was telling the truth, were these the same pills she’d confessed to having given him as a teenager?

He'd almost talked himself into taking it when a simple thought made him hesitate. 

_What if I am pregnant?_

He had no idea what would happen if he took this pill and was with child. As much as he didn't want to be pregnant, he had consented to be. Many, many times. Terminating the potential pregnancy, even on accident, would be cruel to the Salases. 

Tavion sighed and put the pill away. As soon as the healer confirmed that he wasn't carrying, he planned on starting the suppressants guilt free. 

_Just three more days._

 

The day before the appointment, Tavion stood before the door to Jormaine's study. He'd been disappearing to this room as soon as breakfast was concluded for over a week, and Tavion was tired of feeling at though he was being avoided. Whether or not it was intentional, it ended today.

Tavion entered without knocking and found Jormaine writing at his desk. He didn't even look up to see who had disturbed him, and as infuriating as that was, Tavion lost the courage to call him out on his cowardice. He feared the humiliation of rejection more than he hated being ignored. 

Instead, he brought up another issue that had been on his mind after spending more time with Adeleena. He stopped in front of Jormaine’s desk and said, “Adeleena told me her reasons, but I haven't gotten an answer from you. Why did _you_ choose me as a surrogate?” He had a right to know, and he was tired of being kept in the dark about important details that affected his life. 

Jormaine looked up, his expression betraying nothing. “As I recall, I already informed you that I did not choose you. Adeleena did.”

As if his nightmares would let him forget. “Right, but you could have rejected me if I wasn't right for the job.” There's no way Jormaine would have agreed if he found Tavion lacking. So, what had made him agree or disagree with Adeleena's choice?

Jormaine stared at him for a moment. Then, he put down his pen and gestured for Tavion to take a seat. 

Tavion did, eager to finally get an answer. 

“Sirada Cassica.”

He frowned when he realized it was a name. Tavion didn't know anyone named Sira. “Who?”

Jormaine cocked a brow. “The Avvai girl that you rescued.”

 _Ada._ His face lit with recognition when she came to mind. “I didn't know her full name,” he explained, but he vividly remembered the little girl of six or seven years that he'd found alone, hungry, and cold. She'd obviously been on the streets for days, so he'd assumed she had nowhere to go. Just another abandoned child. He'd even asked her to be sure, but she had unable or unwilling to explain why she was on her own.

He'd been living on the streets for over a year at that point, so he knew the best places in the city that were available to the homeless. He knew which libraries would welcome you so long as you were clean and followed the rules, which restaurants would give out leftover food at the end of the day, and which shelters allowed everyone—not to mention what times they tended to fill up.

Where he had been staying at the time had been too dangerous for a little girl, so he'd taken her to the best shelter he could. Then, when she’d begged him not to go, he'd stayed the night to keep her company. In the morning, although Tavion feared he might be sending her back to an abusive home, he'd gone to a shelter worker and told him about the girl. The man had promised to call child services, and Tavion had left. 

It had taken him almost a year to overcome his guilt about abandoning her, but what else could he have done? On the cusp of adulthood, he had known nothing about caring for children. Even if he had, how could he have taken care of her needs when he could hardly meet his own?

“What about her?” he finally asked. He couldn't bring himself to ask if she was okay. If she wasn't, he didn't want to know. 

“I knew her parents.”

That was unexpected. “Knew?” Tavion echoed the keyword. 

“They were murdered. Sirada was lucky enough to get away. She’d been lost for days when you found her, took her to a safe place, and got her help.”

Tavion shrugged, uncomfortable at being praised for doing the bare minimum. 

“Your intentions were questioned, of course, but the worker who talked to the authorities praised you. He claimed you normally shied away from the shelters but that you stayed that night to keep her company. Not the act of criminal, he said.”

Tavion snorted. He doubted a stranger's assessment mattered that much to Jormaine. “You believed him?”

Jormaine gave him a look. “Of course not. I hired a private investigator when the authorities couldn't locate you for questioning.”

He’d heard the authorities wanted to talk to him, so he'd taken extra precautions to remain hidden. However, Tavion had never heard word of a private investigator. 

“I also talked to Sirada. She had nothing but good things to say about her _hero_.” 

Jormaine gave him an amused look, and Tavion had to look away to hide his embarrassment. 

“So, what?” Tavion scoffed. “You picked a street urchin who, _years ago_ , didn't let a little girl die? Low bar, wouldn't you say?” 

All traces of amusement fled Jormaine's expression, and in the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them. A firm hand captured Tavion's chin and lifted it. Gilden eyes—warm yet unyielding—stared into his own, and Tavion had to fight the urge to drop his gaze. 

“My wife picked a man who, as a teen, showed compassion for a child who was not his nor of his race—who was facing his own problems. Countless people passed her by, left her where she was. You did not. Do not make light of that.”

Tavion suddenly remembered Adeleena telling him how much Jormaine had always adored children, but he only now genuinely believed it.

 _He's gonna be a great father._

Too bad Tavion wouldn't get to see it.

 

After waiting two weeks, a day should have gone by quickly, but the hours dragged on. Every minute that crept closer to the appointment only made him more anxious. It was like one of those dreams where you felt like you were falling. Except, instead of jolting awake safely in bed, he kept falling and falling. 

He didn't know what he dreaded more. The news that he was pregnant or the news that he wasn't and would thus be facing another heat. Both were equally embarrassing. 

When the day finally came, Adeleena asked him over breakfast if he wanted them to accompany him. 

Tavion frowned, uncertain. “Do you know what they're gonna do?” he asked. 

“Just a simple blood test. It's highly accurate at early detection.” 

After having imagined far worse (and more impractical scenarios), he felt relief. “No. I'll be fine.” He didn't need anyone to hold his hand over getting blood drawn. Then, it occurred to him that they might have _wanted_ to go. This was for _their_ baby, after all. “Did you want to come with?” 

They shared a look, and then turned back to him in unison. 

“For the following appointments, granted there are any, we would like to accompany you,” Jormaine said stiffly.

Were they worried he wouldn't allow it? Although he secretly hoped this visit would be the first and last, he said, “Fine with me.”  
Adeleena smiled. Even Jormaine looked lighter. 

They finished eating in silence, and then he was on his way. Just like the first time, the driver dropped him off at front of the building and let him go in alone. Tavion was grateful for the privacy. His name was called relatively quickly, and he was taken to a private room to wait. Thankfully, this time he didn't have to change. He simply sat on a chair and waited. 

The nurse that poked her head in wasn't the same one as last time. She was Avvai, like the doctor, and had wings of soft yellow. Her pale, straw colored hair matched them, and she had a rather meek but friendly demeanor.

She frowned at seeing him and looked down to the tablet in her hands. “Sorry. I think I have the wrong room. Tavion Talmedge?”

He tried to hide his unease which had suddenly spiked. “That's me,” he replied, hoping he sounded sure and not drowning in anxiety. 

Her frown deepened. “You're Lum'a?”

Oh. Right. 

Tavion was hesitant to reveal himself after what his mother had revealed, but his information was already on file here. He took the necklace off and almost smiled at the surprise on her face when his glamour disappeared. 

“Wow! Neat trick,” she said with a laugh. “Okay. So, you're here for a pregnancy test?”

“Yeah,” he replied, feeling awkward. This was awkward, right? 

If she thought it was, she didn't let it show. She was the epitome of professionalism. “Any symptoms or other concerns for the doctor?”

Tavion couldn't think of any. One bout of nausea hardly seemed worth mentioning. “Nope.”

“Alright. The doctor will be in shortly.” 

She left, and he returned to anxiously waiting.

 _It's almost over,_ he assured himself. The problem was that he didn't know what would come next. _Either way, at least you’ll have an answer. Better than not knowing._

Thankfully, the medic didn't make him wait too long. He came in with the nurse at his side, carrying a small kit. “Mr. Talmadge?”

“That's me,” he said, trying to calm his pounding heart. 

He had Tavion confirm that he was there for a pregnancy test and then asked, “Do you have any questions for me before we begin?”

Just one. “How long do the results take?” How long until he knew his fate?

“You'll have them before you leave. Our lab on site handles all our bloodwork.”

Tavion was relieved and also _more_ anxious. “Great,” he forced out lamely.

The blood test itself wasn't bad, and the medic performed it with efficiency. This must have seemed routine to him, but Tavion was out of his comfort zone. Doctors and tests had never been a normal part of his life. As the medic left, saying the results would be back soon, Tavion's anxiety spiked higher. He was finally close to an answer, but his heart was pounding so quickly he began to feel lightheaded. 

“Tavion?” the nurse said, coming to his side. “You look very pale. Are you feeling okay?”

“Nauseous,” he muttered.

She gently placed a hand on his arm. It was likely meant to be comforting, but Tavion only felt uneasy. “Okay. Let me see if the doctor will approve something to help with that. I'll be right back.”

Tavion couldn't reply, so he focused on breathing. It did nothing, and his vision started to get fuzzy around the edges. 

_This is real. I might be pregnant._

He almost didn't register the nurse's return. She pressed a glass of water into one hand and a pill into the other. “This will help,” she said soothingly. “Take it, drink the entire glass, and lie down. Okay?” 

While wrestling with the urge to vomit, he struggled to take the pill. He didn't really want to, but if it would help, it had to be better than vomiting all over the room. After drinking as much cool water as he could, he laid his head down and closed his eyes. 

The nausea persisted with each breath until, suddenly, it was replaced by an unnatural drowsiness. Within moments, he slipped into a deep, anxious sleep.


	12. Watching

Awareness came back in pieces but clarity evaded him. The world faded in and out around him, as if someone was inconsistently muting his senses. His muscles refused to obey his desire to rise despite the urgency he felt. Even his eyes were rebelling, feeling as though a force was weighing them down. 

Something was wrong. Something had happened to disrupt the routine that had become his life, but he couldn't recall what. All he knew was that he was in a bed that was not his. It was too soft and had covers that weren't quite the right texture, but it was luxurious. With as comfortable as he was, it was even harder to get up. 

Time passed and, eventually, Tavion was able to open his eyes. He found that it was dark—save for the moonlight coming in through the window. His heart pounded when he realized that he didn't recognize his surroundings...and then he realized he had no idea how he'd gotten here. Wherever _here_ was.

Spurred by fear, Tavion tried to rush out of bed, but found his muscles weak and wobbly. The room spun, and he crumpled to the ground. 

Before his eyes could adjust, a familiar voice cut through the darkness. “Tavion?”

Adeleena? 

A lamp turned on, and he twisted his face away from it. When he looked back, he had to squint to see her. Without warning, a pair of arms scooped him up and carried him right back to bed. He would have recognized Jormaine’s scent anywhere, and he instantly relaxed when he realized he must be in their home. 

“Do not stand unassisted again,” Jormaine ordered. Despite his harsh tone, he was exceedingly gentle when he placed Tavion down. 

Tavion had questions, but his mind was a fog cloud. Forming his thoughts into words was no simple task. Especially when he had to fight to keep his eyes open. 

Adeleena came to her husband's side and gave him a tender look. “Do you need anything, Tavion? The washroom perhaps?”

He realized he did, nodded, and was surprised when Adeleena herself offered her hand to help him stand. “Lean on me,” she said. 

He'd expected her to call for Esme or have Jormaine carry him. This was much more dignified, although his muscles were slow to reply. 

_What happened to me?_

He didn't ask. Not yet. He almost dreaded the answer, but that wasn't why he remained quiet. Walking took all of his focus. Afterwards, as she helped him back to the bed, he found himself drained from the exertion. He closed his eyes, scarcely registering when someone covered him with a soft blanket. Jormaine’s scent filled his nose, comforting, and within seconds he was asleep. 

 

When he opened his eyes next, the sun had risen. Waking was easier this time, so he took a glance at his surroundings, no longer feeling disoriented. He definitely wasn't in his chambers. This room was enormous, but it was clearly a bedroom. A grand one, at that. Apart from the bed, larger than the one he had been using for weeks, there were two wardrobes, a fancy desk with a mirror, a chair by the oversized window, and nightstands on both sides of the bed. The room was spacious, and its color scheme was green and gold. The accent wall and bed spread were emerald, and the twin lamps on the nightstands were just one of the many gilded highlights. 

It was obviously a combination of Adeleena and Jormaine. Even if he couldn't scent Jormaine in the pillow he rested his head upon, he would have known whose bedroom this was by look alone. The question he had was why was he here?

Tavion swung his legs over the side of the bed and tested his muscles. He couldn't find anything wrong. No aches or pains out of the ordinary. He was hungry and had to use the bathroom, but otherwise he felt fine. 

He stood and tried to figure out which door led to the bathroom. The first one he tried led to a large, open room—likely the main part of the suite. He closed the door, certain the bedroom would have a private one, and he was soon proven right. It was just as marvelous as the washroom he used on a daily basis but far more commodious. 

After he relieved himself, he noticed a set of clothes waiting on the double basin vanity. It seemed that they were meant for him because he doubted the Salases had need of shirts without space for wings. Emboldened by the discovery, he stripped and bathed. 

Sluggish as his brain was, it was only then that he noticed his skin was back to its usual color—pale blue. His mother's necklace was missing, but there was nothing he could do about that. He couldn't even remember where he would have lost it or what had happened to lead to him being in the Salases’ private suite. He strained, trying to recall, but all he remembered was waiting for the test results.

He quickly finished cleaning up, eager to find Jormaine or Adeleena and get answers. As he pulled on the new clothes, he couldn't help but admire their midnight coloration and exquisite texture. They flowed like water over his hands, soft and cool. Clearly made of expensive material, Tavion was willing to bet he could feed himself for a year with what the shirt alone must have cost. 

When he exited the bathroom, he was startled to find Jormaine and Adeleena waiting for him. This change in routine and their increased attentiveness was making him nervous. 

_Am I dying?_ He couldn’t imagine what other bad news they might have to share. 

“What happened to me?” he asked, glancing from Jormaine stood to where Adeleena sat in a plush chair. “Did I pass out at the appointment?” By the stars, if he'd passed out, they wouldn't trust him to go to the medic alone ever again.

Jormaine’s reply caught him off guard. “You were drugged by a nurse. Once you were unconscious, she tried to remove you from the building through a back door.” 

Fear raced down his spine at the information. Someone had tried to _kidnap_ him? If they had succeeded, he would have woken up to a _very_ different situation. He tried not to imagine what might have happened and asked, “What stopped her?”

“I had security posted at all entrances and exits,” Jormaine replied unabashedly. 

Tavion wanted to be annoyed that Jormaine had done so without telling him, without asking, but it had saved him from a terrible fate. _Pick your battles._

Adeleena chipped in. “We should clarify that it's unclear if you were the target—” She hesitated ever so briefly. “—Or if they were after the child.” 

It took Tavion a moment to register her words. _The child?_

_No, no, no, no—_

“I'm—?” he choked on the question. He'd never imagined he would cry when the news came, but he felt tears building. Not of joy or relief but of humiliation and grief. 

Adeleena stood swiftly and closed the distance between them, taking his hand in hers. “Yes, Tavion. You are with child.” 

He couldn't speak. When he tried, no words came out. What would he say even if he could? How wasn't sure he could pretend to be happy. Not to mention that saying ‘congratulations’ felt hollow and informal, as if he was hearing someone else's news. In a way, he supposed he was. It still felt surreal, but he supposed that would fade when the pregnancy became more apparent. 

The idea of it becoming apparent was distressing. 

His feelings must have shown because Adeleena’s expression softened. “We aren't ignorant to your plight, Tavion—not knowing your biology until we requested you be our surrogate. This cannot be easy for you, but you are not alone.”

Jormaine mingled his feathers with hers. “We will do all that we can.”

The last thing he wanted was for either of them to feel _bad_. Wasn't this supposed to be a joyous occasion for them? “I'm okay,” he insisted, wiping at his eyes. He'd signed up for this, and he wouldn't ruin their moment with self-pity. “Just...hormones, I guess,” he said weakly. He wasn't above using the pregnancy as an excuse. In fact, doing so was going to be his new default. If he could make light of the situation, maybe it would get easier. 

“Do you know what the kidnappers wanted?” he asked, both because he wanted to know and because he needed a distraction. Yeah, he was a freak of nature, but the fact that someone had drugged him was more important. He could finish his identity crisis later, he thought with a derisive snort. 

“No,” Jormaine growled, fury thinly contained. “She knew nothing. Just a pawn. Whoever orchestrated this is still out there, but I intend to find them.”

As ridiculous as it was, Tavion felt better knowing Jormaine was on top of it. The Avvai lord was an unstoppable force when he wanted something.

Still, Tavion wasn't just going to hope for the best. He was going to help by giving them what details he could. “I think I remember being drugged before the results were back,” he said. “Doesn't that mean they were probably after _me_?” If they hadn't even been sure there was a child, why risk going after him? No. It only made sense if he was the target.

“That was our estimation as well,” Adeleena said. 

“Which is why you will go nowhere alone for the foreseeable future.”

Tavion narrowed his eyes. As much as he understood Jormaine’s caution, he refused to be treated as if he were helpless. He’d survived on the streets for years before he’d ever met them. 

“So, if I want to wander off the grounds, I'll need a guard as an escort?” Tavion asked hotly. 

Jormaine’s eyes captured his own. “No. _I_ will accompany you.”

Tavion's heart fluttered, and he shifted uncomfortably at the intensity of Jormaine’s gaze. He wouldn't let the Avvai lord dictate his life outside the bedroom. That would set a dangerous precedent. “So, I escape a kidnapping, but I'm still a prisoner? I don't think so.” 

“Having adequate security when someone is clearly after you is hardly comparable to captivity,” Jormaine said wryly. “Regardless, you needn't concern yourself with that right now. You're on bedrest until tomorrow.”

Tavion glared in reply. He wasn't done discussing the issue of extra security, but let Jormaine change the topic. “Why?” He felt fine.   
“The drug the nurse used has many side effects, as it hasn't been approved for use on your kind. The doctor advised you be on bedrest until tomorrow.”

Tavion was surprised by the fear that swept through him. “The baby—?”

“—Is fine thus far,” Jormaine assured him. 

“We've been monitoring you for bleeding,” Adeleena added. “If you have any unusual pain at all, let us know immediately.”

_Bleeding from where?_ He dared not ask. After a quick self-assessment, Tavion relaxed. He had no unusual pains. It dawned on him that this explained why he was in their bedroom. Jormaine’s protective tendencies were in overdrive. It wasn't unreasonable. He had discovered he was expecting his first child and then almost lost them (and their bearer) on the same day. 

“If you have any symptoms at all, let us know,” Jormaine amended.

“Okay,” he said, acknowledging their requests. Their fussing would have been flattering, but this was the most attention Jormaine had paid him in weeks. It didn't escape Tavion's notice that it was centered around his pregnancy. Bitter at the thought, he added, “Wouldn't want anything to happen to your walking incubator, right?” 

Jormaine chuckled, leaned in, and captured Tavion's mouth in a demanding, domineering kiss. Tavion resented his body for how quickly it reacted, as if it had been starved and Jormaine was a feast waiting to be enjoyed. After longing for Jormaine’s touch for so long, Tavion instantly melted and parted his lips, practically begging for more. The Avvai’s scent, his taste, overwhelmed his senses. 

Just as abruptly as he'd initiated it, Jormaine broke the kiss. He wasn’t left wanting for long and shivered as Jormaine’s fingers ghosted across his skin, each touch light but deliberate—designed to drive him mad with desire. Observant as he was, there was no way Jormaine didn't notice his every reaction no matter how minute. How his breath shook, how his skin trembled. 

He'd _missed_ this. He needed—

Suddenly, reality came crashing down around him, and he panicked when he remembered that they had an audience. Tavion looked to Adeleena, expecting fury, but she looked pleased. 

“You really _must_ warn a lady first,” she said coyly. 

The words stunned Tavion, but before he could reply, Jormaine captured his mouth again, stroking the kindling of his desire. It was almost enough to forget Adeleena was in the room. 

Almost. 

He glanced back to her, hesitant to let himself fully enjoy Jormaine’s touch and ruin his relationship with her. 

“She likes to watch, _srelir_ ,” Jormaine said into his ear. “You don't wish to deny your master's wife, do you?” 

Tavion remembered his safe words, his signals, but he didn't use them. If she wanted to watch, she could watch. By the stars, he wanted more, but he dared not ask. Especially not if it risked making Jormaine stop altogether. Watching and participating were very different actions. 

“Never, master,” he said.

“Good boy,” Jormaine replied as he turned Tavion around, bending him over the side of the bed. “Now, shall we address you appalling behavior? I don't want to hear you speak derogatively about yourself ever again. Understand?”

The incubator comment came to mind. “Yes, master,” he replied, anticipation making his toes curl. Though he was acutely aware of Adeleena watching, Jormaine had his focus. 

The first smack caught him off guard, especially because he assumed Jormaine would make him undress first. The sharp sting quickly dulled to an ache, but Tavion gritted his teeth all the same. 

“Count.”

It took him a moment to process the order, but when he did, he stuttered out, “O-one.”

The second slap paralleled the first, and Tavion was starting to notice how much gentler Jormaine was being. Enough to play the game but far from enough to hurt him...or the baby. 

“Two.”

It was somehow more erotic. How controlled Jormaine was. 

The third blow was almost too much to bear. “Three.” He rocked forward, seeking delicious friction against the bed. 

Jormaine increased the force with the fifth and sixth blow, leaving Tavion panting. Not with pain but with want. 

By the time they reached ten, he was at his limit. 

Jormaine seemed to sense it. “You did well, _srelir_ ,” he said, fingers tracing Tavion's aching flesh. “Turn over.”

As soon as Tavion did, Jormaine brought his hand to where Tavion's member strained to be free. Fighting the urge to arch into his touch was the hardest thing he'd done in a long time. Jormaine made a pleased sound and began stroking Tavion through his clothes. More than anything, Tavion wanted skin-on-skin contact, but he was hesitant to go that far with Adeleena watching. 

He clutched at Jormaine desperately, abandoning his reservations and bucking when Jormaine finally slipped a hand beneath his pants to stroke him over his thin undergarment. After so much build up, it didn't take much to bring him to the edge. He thought Jormain would stop, would leave him wanting, but he didn't. He slipped beneath the final barrier of clothing, took him firmly in hand, and quickened the pace—kissing him all the while. Tavion thrusted into Jormaine’s hand until he came with gasps that were muffled by his lover's lips. Pleasure rocked him to the core, and he sagged into the bed. 

Jormaine looked down at him smugly. “Shall we get you out of those dirty clothes, _srelir_?”

It was clearly a ploy to get him undressed, but Tavion didn't mind. “Yes, master,” he said, lifting his hips compliantly and letting Jormaine do the rest. When he was bare from the waist down, he dared not look at Adeleena. Instead, he focused on his master, waiting to see what came next.   
Jormaine looked quite pleased. “Remove your shirt and get on your hands and knees on the bed,” he ordered.   
Tavion quickly obeyed, hungry for more and eager to please. 

“So submissive,” he heard Adeleena comment. “He is a gift, my love.”

“Yes,” Jormaine agreed. “A true treasure.”

Tavion flushed, ashamed of how arousing he found their words. 

“Oh, how darling,” Adeleena purred. “He blushes indigo.”

The praise fueled his need, and he fought not to squirm. He must have failed because Jormaine swatted his bare rump. “Be still, _srelir_. Your mistress is admiring the view.”

“Be nice, my love,” Adeleena chided Jormaine. “He's been so well behaved. I think you should reward him.”

“Oh?” Jormaine stroked his hand over the spot he'd struck. “What do you think, srelir? Shall I reward you?” 

_By the stars, yes._ Tavion swallowed the instinctual reply. “If it pleases you, master,” he said instead. 

Adeleena made an appreciative sound. “Precious.”

“Use you words, _srelir_. Tell me what you want while I'm feeling generous.” 

Tavion was too far gone to be properly embarrassed. Casting aside all dignity, he simply said, “You, master.” He needed Jormaine inside of him like he needed to breathe. _“Please.”_

Jormaine didn't reply. The sound of a drawer opening answered him, and Tavion soon understood why when a slick finger breached him. He moaned and pushed backwards, desperate for more, but Jormaine took his time, opening him with leisure. Having expected to be taken quickly, this careful preparation was driving him insane. 

When he began to squirm, fingers whispered across his skin without warning. It startled him at first, especially when he realized it was Adeleena. She stroked the inside of his wrist, tracing the markings up his forearm. It was electrifying, her soft touch on such a sensitive area while Jormaine worked a second finger inside of him.

He whimpered at the clash of sensations. 

“Yes, Tavion,” she cooed. “He’s quite skilled, isn’t it?” 

Tavion made a rather unintelligible reply as Jormaine hit that sweet spot inside of him, the one that made him cry out and beg. Clutching the sheets, he shook with need when Jormaine added a third finger.

“Enough teasing, my love. Take him. Now.” 

“As you wish.” 

Tavion whined when the fingers withdrew, but Jormaine quickly helped him onto his back, looking down at him smugly. Only then did Jermaine striped completely, bearing every inch of golden skin, his golden wings flaring wide. 

Tavion was certain he'd never seen anything as magnificent.

With one last kiss, Jormaine placed a pillow underneath him and then guided his legs apart, positioning himself until they were aligned. Their eyes met, and Tavion fought the urge to look away, shying away from the intimacy. 

“Watch me, _srelir_. Look at how much pleasure you bring your master.”

He did, and then Jormaine sank into him with one swift motion. He bit his lip to muffle a moan, but Jormaine let his pleasure be heard. By the stars, it felt so good. Stretched wide and filled to the brim, Tavion welcomed the burn. After giving him a moment to adjust to the welcomed intrusion, Jormaine began to move. As spread as Tavion was, each thrust seemed to reach his core, and he arched shamelessly into it—trying to impale himself further. 

Lying on his back, Tavion had a clear view of Jormaine fucking him and Adeleena who was watching it all. It was absolutely sinful, and he loved every moment of it. He writhed and moaned, his member once again straining with the need for release. 

Jormaine suddenly slowed his pace and leaned forward to kiss a trail down his belly down as far as he could reach. Tavion closed his eyes, head thrown back, and decided this must be what it was like to be worshiped. 

“I will give you everything, _srelir_ ,” Jormaine murmured against his skin. “You'll want for nothing in our home.” 

If that was true… Tavion bucked his hips to make his desires known. 

It must have worked because Jormaine chuckled. “Feeling neglected, _srelir_?”

Tavion made an affirmative, pleading sound. 

“I know someone who can help with that.” 

Jormaine looked up, and Tavion didn’t have to follow his gaze to know whom he meant. Were they teasing him? It seemed too good to be true, but he was too far gone to be cautious of their intentions. He nodded emphatically, trying to give permission for what he was too embarrassed to verbalize. 

Thankfully, Adeleena took pity on him. As she joined them, Jormaine withdrew, and Tavion whimpered at the loss. She quickly pulled his upper body onto her lap with help from Jormaine. Then, when he was settled and spread wide once more, Jormaine seized his hips and plunged into him. As he began to vigorously fuck Tavion, she wrapped her delicate digits around his flesh and stroked in tandem. 

It was the most intimate experience of his life. To be held, stroked, and taken all at once. He came undone in Adaleena’s arms, become an incoherent mess without shame or self-consciousness. He wanted it to go on forever, but he knew he wasn't going to last. Mewling at each stroke and thrust, he came hard, muscles clamping down on Jormaine who swiftly followed. 

Tingling with pleasure, he collapsed into Adeleena, eyes sagging closed. He groaned weakly when Jormaine withdrew, but he couldn't find the will to stir. A hand gently brushed the hair from his eyes, but he didn't react beyond humming with contentment. 

Tavion must have drifted off because he woke to unfamiliar, wet sounds. He opened his eyes and found Jormaine licking and sucking between Adeleena's legs on the opposite side of the bed. Completely naked, her creamy skin was on full display, Tavion had to will himself not to stare at her full breasts. His member gave a half-hearted twitch of interest, but he was far too spent to be physically aroused. Still, it was quite the sight—watching Jormaine tend to his wife who gasped and writhed. Her wings, which were splayed out beneath her, twitched with pleasure. It felt wrong to be watching them, but he couldn’t look away. If they wanted privacy, they would have said so, right? 

Adeleena came with a strangled cry, bucking into Jormaine’s mouth before finally sinking into the bed with a sigh. Looking quite smug, he crawled forward to capture her mouth in a slow, gentle kiss—golden wings spread wide. As he did, his feathers nearly brushed Tavion who had to resist the urge to touch them. As if aware of his dilemma, Jormaine looked to him. 

Embarrassed to be caught staring, he blurted out, “Can I…?” while his hand hovered over Jormaine’s left wing. He had no idea if initiating contact was allowed when it came to an Avvai's wings. 

In response, Jormaine extended the golden appendage further until it was draped over Tavion who sat up to better admire it. Feathers brushed his bare skin, stroking his desire, but he was too exhausted to follow through. Instead, he threaded his fingers through gilded feathers, enjoying the silky feeling between his digits. 

When he looked back up, he saw Adeleena watching them with amusement. “Shall we have breakfast and chat, my dears?”

Jormaine chuckled in response. “As you wish, my love.”

How they could appear so dignified and refined while completely naked Tavion would never understand, but he nodded. Though he would rather they didn’t talk right now (or ever), he had many questions—the least of which was, ‘Now what?’


	13. Nauseating

“How are you feeling?” was the first thing either of them asked him once they were seated at a small but comfortable table in their suite. Food awaited them, and Tavion tried not to think about what whoever dropped it off must have heard. _We weren't exactly quiet._ Then again, they probably all knew what his purpose here was. Adding Adeleena to the mix couldn't possibly lessen their opinion of him. 

_Stop that. It's a job. There's no shame in honest work._

Except it wasn't the contract itself that made him self-conscious. It was his biology. He had to find a way to come to terms with it, but he hadn’t a clue how. 

“Tavion?” Adeleena prodded him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

When he looked at her then, all he could think about was her head thrown back in pleasure as Jormaine brought her to completion. 

He could feel himself flush at the memory. By the stars, they were both beautiful and fierce. Who was he in comparison? 

No, he couldn't think like that. He was damaged and younger than them, yes, but Tavion wasn’t unworthy of them or _anything_. 

Remembering that Adeleena was waiting for a reply, he said, “I'm good.” Because he felt better than good. Who knew threesomes could be so healing? Now that he'd experienced what being with them was like, he didn’t know how he would go without if and when this ended. “In fact, I think we need to do that again. Probably at least once a week. Pregnancy requirement,” he said as seriously as he could manage, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. At least, _he_ felt awkward. They didn't seem to. 

Had they done this before, he wondered suddenly? With the ease in which they'd shared him—Tavion nearly blushed at the thought—he would be surprised if they hadn't. 

Adeleena laughed. “That exactly or other variations of it?” 

Her question had his imagination running wild. Arousal quickly followed, but he was too drained to act on it. Tavion suspected there was much more he wanted to experience with them, but first they had to discuss the situation they’d found themselves in. 

“Both,” he said resolutely and far too eagerly. To mask his embarrassment, he added, “You know what they say. Sex is very important for growing a baby.”

“Are you certain you don't mean sex is important for _making_ a baby?” Jormaine asked wryly. 

Tavion gave a half-grin. “I defer to your judgement.”

“As you should,” Jormaine replied. 

Adeleena chuckled. “That answers whether or not you wish to continue with this arrangement. I rather hoped you would.”

“ _We_ rather hoped you would,” Jormaine corrected. 

Tavion felt stupid because it just dawned on him that they must have discussed this possibility beforehand. “Why...?” 

Adeleena gave him a puzzled look. “Who better than you, _Corpyr_?” 

He’d meant to ask why they initiated this at all, but it was hard putting his thoughts to words. Still, the biggest concern on his mind was how it would affect the contract. Would they ask him to stay in their lives after the contract ended? Then again, did it matter if they did? He couldn't be their lovers while they raised the child that was currently growing within him. It would be…

_Painful?_

Tavion mentally winced. To keep true to his decision never to lie to himself, he had to admit that it would indeed be painful. Despite what he felt about _being pregnant_ , he’d already demonstrated that he cared about the child. When he learned there might be side effects to being drugged, he'd worried not only for himself but for them. He wanted to be surprised, but he wasn't. Tavion groused about kids, but he frequently went out of his way to help them—as he did for Sirada.

Staying—if they offered it—would complicated everything, but giving them up would be painful. Was it better to experience what he could or stop this before it went further? “How long do you want this to continue for?” he asked despite his hesitations.

“Estimating the length of a relationship is not simple,” Adeleena replied. 

True enough. “Are you looking for short-term or long-term?”

Jormaine continued to remain quiet, letting Adeleena answer. “Would it be adequate to say we intend for this relationship to last as long as we are all willing? We’re interested in seeing where this goes, and I believe you are too.”

Tavion supposed that was fair. “Yeah, but what about the contract? Once the baby is born, I'll be leaving.”

That was the issue he couldn't get off his mind. Why allow himself to get even more attached to them when it would all be over in less than a year? He wouldn't linger while they raised his child. 

_It isn't yours! Stop thinking like that._

“You most certainly will _not_ be leaving,” Jormaine replied forcefully. “You will remain here.”

Adeleena gave her husband a look and said, “My dear—” but it was too late for her to keep the peace. 

Tavion glared at Jormaine's unflinching, commanding tone and said, “And if I don't want to stay?” 

It wasn't his intention to hurt Adeleena, so when she looked taken back, he felt bad. The furious look in Jormaine's eyes, however, was almost worth it. 

“You clearly want to,” Jormaine replied curtly. “For some unfathomable reason you have difficulty admitting what you want. I have no such qualms.”

Tavion didn't care for that accurate assessment, and only the lack of a witty comeback kept his tongue still. 

Adeleena took advantage of the silence. “Jormaine, stop goading him.” After chastising her husband, she turned to Tavion. “We will have to discuss what we all want concerning the surrogacy, but answer me this. Do you wish to stay with us, Tavion? Put aside the contract for now. We can factor that in once you answer this question.”

His instinctual response was yes, but Tavion was hesitant to admit that aloud. He cared for them, but he craved stability. What if he was mistaking his desire for a home with feelings of affection? Maybe that's why he enjoyed this arrangement so much. They provided him with the one thing he’d always craved. Then again, just because he loved the stability they granted him didn't mean he didn't also love them. 

Wait. Love? No. It was too early for that word, but he felt _something_ for them. Something strong but undefinable. 

All in all, life had been good with the Saleses so far, but that could be deliberate on their part. Manipulation with kindness was not uncommon. “I dunno,” he said at last. “Everything is happening so...fast.”

He'd only just learned that he’d nearly been kidnapped _and_ that he was pregnant. Not to mention he’d joined a threesome with the very couple he was carrying that child for. To say things were complicated would be an understatement. 

“More time is the only luxury we cannot give you more of,” Jormaine said. 

Tavion didn't like the ominous sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“Your title as our _Corpyr_ is a declaration of intent,” Adeleena replied after giving her husband a look. “It does not require your approval. It simply means we consider you part of this household, and we expect others to recognize that.”

Tavion gave her a puzzled look. “What's the benefit in doing that?” It seemed like a lot of power to give someone. 

“Politically speaking, it means you are off limits to other Avvai.”

“Off limits?” Tavion repeated. Like property? He didn't like that sound of that and hoped he was wrong. 

Jormaine seamlessly took over explaining. “Avvai politics are ruthless. We hold our titles through strength. Because powerful Avvai are hard to hurt and even harder to kill, it became common to attack their weaker ‘loved ones,’ so to speak. So common, in fact, that powerful lineages began to suffer. Betrothal contracts were broken, and new ones became near impossible to secure. No family wished to have their sons or daughters made a target by marrying into a powerful lineage. So, the Cadre assembled and decided that, from that day forward, targeting an Avvai's family to get to a _Litr_ or _Liry_ would no longer be tolerated. Those that break that law face execution for themselves and exile for their families.”

None of that really surprised him. The Avvai had a comparatively strong physiology. They were harder to wound, healed quickly, and were physically stronger and faster than most. Though they had long lifespans—a few hundred years, at least—many Avvai lords and ladies had died battling for control of Vergate before the Salas family stepped in. The descendants of those that survived the power struggle between those powerful lineages knew how fierce Avvai politics were. 

“How does that affect this _corpyr_ title?” he prompted when it became apparent they were waiting on him to reply. 

“An Avvai's family includes their spouse, children, and their _corpyr_ , should they have one,” Adeleena said.

Tavion took a moment to digest that. Family. They were claiming him as family? Why? Trying to make sense of it, he asked, “So, you guys declared I was your _corpyr_ to protect me?” 

“Yes and no,” Adeleena replied. “To ensure the title cannot be abused in that way, the Cadre ruled that _Lirys_ and _Litrs_ have a limited time to have their declaration confirmed.”At Tavion’s blank stare, she said, “You must publicly accept or reject the title.”

That made sense, and he liked that it gave him the final say in the matter. “Okay. So, let's get it confirmed. Problem solved.”  
They didn't look as relieved as he thought they would. 

“It is not to be done lightly,” Jormaine said. “It is a legally binding contract—as sacred to the Avvai as a Bonding Ceremony. Husband and wife are terms we've adapted for assimilation. In truth, there are two types ‘marriages.’ Those in which you and your intended merely exchange vows and those in which, after those vows, you choose to Bond.”

Tavion decided he would read more on Avvai culture as soon as he could. He'd been too complacent, waiting for them to tell him what mattered. Clearly, he’d shown them too much trust. “What's the difference?” 

“All Avvai have inherent _kajin_ —an inner energy some might call magic. In powerful individuals, it can manifest as Talents,” Jormaine said.

Tavion inclined his head. Everyone knew the rumor of the Avvai's magic, but few had actually seen evidence of it. They tended to closely guard knowledge of it.

“Bonding is, more or less, when one Avvai ties their magic to another,” Jormaine said, wings spreading slightly. “ _Kajin_ is our life force, and no one binds theirs to another lightly. To do so is to recognize your soulmate.”

Tavion didn't miss the way Adeleena's wing reached out to brush Jormaine's—gold and emerald mingling for a long moment. He didn't need to ask to know that they were Bonded.

Tavion had a realization as he watched the way their feathers mingled in the light. “So, which do you undergo as a _corpyr_? Vows with or without Bonding?” He had a suspicion that he already knew, and he didn't like it. 

“You must Bond,” Adeleena replied. 

“I’m not Avvai,” he replied, scarcely containing his outrage. “I don’t have _kajin_!” 

“Though rarely done, Bonding to other species has been successful,” Jormaine replied. 

With clenched fists, his gaze snapped to Jormaine. “You announced me as your _corpyr_ without consulting me, knowing full well I would have to Bond or risk being targeted when the protection expired?”

Tavion had known he was being manipulated. He hadn't known he was being corralled. 

“It was my idea,” Adeleena said suddenly. 

The hurt look Tavion give her was unfiltered because the betrayal was unexpected. The choice was so manipulative, so underhanded, that he couldn't fathom her having done it. That was his fault, he supposed. He'd chosen not to reflect on how well matched she and Jormaine were. They did not hope for the best; they ensured they got the results they wanted. She'd been so good at helping him, at handling and comforting him, that he'd almost started to believe she was perfect.

That was a stupid mistake. 

When he didn’t reply, she spoke up. “You have a choice to make, and time is running out.”

The callousness of her words irked him. “The title didn't seem to help when I was almost kidnapped,” he snapped. 

“It allows us to the tools to take immediate and justifiable action,” Jermaine said. “No one can deny our right to retribution now, especially if an Avvai orchestrated it.”

“Which is all nice and good, but someone still tried to kidnap me,” he replied coolly. “So, I guess the title isn't a guarantee of protection you assure me it is.”

“There will always be those that disregard tradition and law,” Adeleena argued. “That does not make the title worthless.” 

“If it doesn't matter to everyone, it won't keep me safe, so it doesn't matter.” Maybe Tavion was just being petty, but refusing them gave him immense satisfaction. 

“You _will_ do this,” Jormaine replied, wings twitching in what was likely agitation. “It would be foolish not to, and you already desire so strongly to be ours.”

Tavion was in no mood to be bossed around. “You forced a title on me that affected my life, and not only did you not consult me, you didn't so much as a warn me. I had to ask a servant what the word even meant!” He didn't reveal it was Esme, not wanting to get her in trouble. “Now you're telling me I could be in even _more_ danger because you've brought attention to me by giving me the title in the first place!”

“You can hardly take the moral high ground with us, Tavion,” Jormaine said, voice dangerously chilled. “Esme found the pills—the ones under the mattress. An illicit drug to neutralize your cycle, I'm told. If omitting facts is a crime, you’re as guilty as we are.”

Shame swept through him, and anger was his only armor. “You had no right to go through my stuff!” he snapped, knowing full well Jormaine did, in fact, have that right. 

“You forget yourself, _srelir_ ,” Jormaine said, danger in every word. The primitive part of Tavion's brain screamed _danger _and urged him to flee. “You're standing in _my_ home, and everything in it belongs to me.”__

__“You forget _yourself_ ,” Tavion replied, emboldened by anger—fueled by how unreasonable Jormaine was being. Though his instincts screamed that he was prodding a predator, he would not back down. “I'm not your slave, or is that how you really see me? Shall I call you _master_ even now?” he spat._ _

__Jormaine scoffed. “We both know I could have you begging in seconds with that very title on your lips.”_ _

__“ _Enough_ ,” Adeleena said forcefully. Then, she turned to Tavion. “Will you excuse us, my dear?” _ _

__“Gladly,” Tavion growled, storming out and seeking refuge in his chambers. He needed time alone to process all that had happened._ _

__

__“I should send for _Litr_ and _Liry_ Salas, _Corpyr_ ,” Esme said for the nth time that day. Her hand gently held his hair as he recovered from another bout of vomiting. _ _

__“Fuck them,” he spat between dry heaves, fingers clenching the toilet he sat in front of. After a moment, the nausea became stronger, and he closed his eyes and groaned._ _

__Esme didn't react to his comment. Instead, she began to pat gently his back once more._ _

__Stars knew why it helped soothe his stomach slightly, but it did._ _

__After spitting to clear his mouth, Tavion sniffled and wiped at his eyes. He knew he looked like a mess. He hadn't been able to keep anything down for over a day, and just the very idea of eating was starting to make him ill. All he wanted to do was curl up in the Salases’ bed—as if that would fix anything—but he raged against his instincts. He was supposed to be avoiding them and would _not_ cave so easily. He'd gone longer than a day without food, so why was this time so awful?_ _

__Ah, right. The endless, cursed nausea._ _

___I hate pregnancy._ _ _

__After a moment, he realized Esme was making soothing sounds. It was actually nice. She had been a tremendous help. Despite his assumption that she constantly reported to the Salases, she hadn't told them about this bout of illness, and he knew she hadn’t because Jormaine hadn’t stormed his chambers. Nausea was common with pregnancy, she’d told him, but if it persisted she would have to inform them. So long as he tried to eat, however, she promised to gave him his privacy. Unfortunately, that meant his stomach had plenty of ammo when it twisted with relentless nausea._ _

__Thankfully, there was now nothing left but bile._ _

__After ten minutes with no dry heaves, she helped him back to bed, into the nest of blankets and pillows. He couldn't say why he'd built it, but it was a comfort he’d needed. The sight, the scent, the feel._ _

__As he settled in, Esme asked, “Would you like _tao, Corpyr_?” _ _

__Tavion shook his head and closed his eyes. It was still daytime, but he was utterly exhausted—drained from hours of sickness. A nap sounded wonderful._ _

__“Then, water,” Esme said, and he listened to her feathers rustle as she left._ _

__Her determination to help was a blessing—even though it was Jormaine and Adeleena he wanted to have coddling him._ _

__He let himself doze until she returned to prod him awake. “ _Corpyr_ , you must drink. You must stay hydrated.”_ _

__Tavion pried open his eyes, slowly sat up, and accepted the glass. When he went to take a sip, he noticed a familiar taste and gave her an inquisitive look._ _

__“Likifruit helps nausea,” she replied, smiling._ _

__Which just so happened to be his favorite fruit. That helped. He drank the whole glass sip by sip, happy to note that the biting hunger in his gut was temporarily sated. “Thank you, Esme,” he said genuinely._ _

__She beamed proudly. “You are welcome, _Corpyr_. I researched help for pregnancy sickness.” _ _

__That was oddly touching—how she had gone above and beyond to help him. “Esme, you're amazing at your job, but why stay here? You could be much more than a servant.” Why did she limit herself?_ _

__His question banished all traces of happiness from her expression. “It is an honor to serve the _Litr_ and _Liry_ Salas.”_ _

__Tavion resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Sure, but why?”_ _

__When she looked ashamed, Tavion wished he hadn't asked. Her head dropped and her good wing drooped. “I was born on Altair. Not Vergate. When my wings came in—”_ _

__‘Came in?’ Were Avvai not born with their wings?_ _

__“—One came in wrong. This is not common, you see.”_ _

__It was difficult not to glance at her twisted, aqua wing, but he resisted the instinct to do so._ _

__“Such a thing would have made life there hard. My parents could not afford special care, so I was given away. I served my new family, and before I came of age, they sold me here on Vergate.”_ _

__Tavion knew that there were details missing, but it was her story to tell. He had many questions but no right to ask them. “I'm sorry.”  
Esme smiled softly. “I’m not. _Litr_ Salas bought me and has been very kind. He may not be an easy lord to serve, but I am proud to.”_ _

__He could see in her expression that she genuinely believed Jormaine had saved her, and he couldn't argue that wasn't true. Who knew where she might have ended up if not for his intervention?_ _

__Yes, Jormaine had helped them and many others, but that didn't mean Tavion had to forgive him for being conniving and manipulative._ _

__Tavion was entitled to be angry. He could understand their reasons for doing what they did, but it still hurt—and it was that hurt that kept him from forgiving them easily._ _

__

__The nausea did not go away._ _

__He tried everything to keep food down. Every solution Esme could find. Eating protein-rich foods. Eating smaller, more frequent meals. Eating cold foods as opposed to hot ones. Keeping hydrated and getting plenty of rest._ _

__On the fifth day of endless nausea and vomiting, he caved and begged Esme to get the Salases. He knew the only reason they had stayed away this long was to give him space to reconsider his decision, but he had assumed Jormaine would lose patience and come for him anyway—had secretly _hoped_ he would. _ _

__Asking them to come to his aid should have been humiliating. Luckily, ill as he was, Tavion didn't have the luxury of acknowledging wounded pride. He was desperate for a cure, for an end to this misery._ _

__Leaning against the toilet, Tavion whined as he felt the need to vomit grip his gut again. That's how Jormaine and Adeleena found him. Bent over with his hands on the rim, sick to his stomach._ _

__“How long has this been going on?” Jormaine demanded._ _

__Tavion hoped they didn't expect an answer from him._ _

__“Five days, _Litr_ Salas,” Esme replied._ _

__“You let this go on for _five days_ without informing us?” _ _

__Sick though he was, Tavion felt Jormaine's fury like a fog in the air. He couldn't let Esme get in trouble for honoring his request for privacy. Especially not after everything she had done. “My fault,” he croaked. Though he didn't dare lift his head from the toilet, he had to speak up. “Asked her not to.”_ _

__“Tavion,” Adeleena scolded him, but her tone was laced with worry as she came to his side. “One argument does not mean we would let you suffer like this.”_ _

__He wanted to assure her that he’d known they would care, but speaking wasn’t something he was confident he could do much of. So, he kept quiet and tried not to move, lest he aggravate his stomach once more._ _

__“I will not begrudge you loyalty to this household, Esme,” Jormaine said. “But we will discuss this later.”_ _

__The rustling of wings had Tavion glancing up out of the corner of his eye to find Jormaine standing before him. Was that concern on his face?_ _

__“Has this been constant?” Adeleena asked, and Tavion sagged into her touch when she placed a hand on the back of his neck comfortingly._ _

__“Yes,” Esme answered for him._ _

__“Then, a trip to the medic is in order. Can you stand?” Adeleena asked._ _

__Tavion let out an undignified yelped as Jormaine gently scooped him up in his arms. “No need.”_ _

__Usually he would have protested, would have been embarrassed, but Tavion was just drained. Everything ached and nausea haunted him like a nightmare._ _

__To his surprise, Jormaine didn't head to the vehicle. Instead, he paused just outside the doorway._ _

__“Stay still.”_ _

__The command made sense a moment later when Jormaine’s gilded wings spread and, with a few loud and powerful beats, launched them into the sky. Tavion clung to Jormaine like a lifeline, but the Avvai already had an iron grip on him._ _

__“Wha’re you doing? Wha’ if I get sick?” he asked as loudly as he could. By the stars, he couldn't imagine anything worse than vomiting on the Avvai lord._ _

__Jormaine glanced down with a raised brow, as if that was the most trivial thing to ask. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable. We’ll be there soon.”_ _

__Then, he picked up the pace, racing through the sky. Tavion had no idea Jormaine could fly this fast—like a bullet. It was breathtaking. Once he overcame the pounding of his heart, Tavion closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the wind on his face. The air was cooler up here, but Jormaine burned like a fire, keeping him comfortable. Exhilarating at it was to experience flight, he was comfortable for the first time in days and had to fight the urge to doze._ _

__The wind shifted as they landed outside the doors of a hospital. Adeleena must have called ahead because a small crew was waiting for them and approached as they touched down._ _

__“ _Litr_ Jormaine,” an Avvai woman with dusty brown wings greeted them. She was the epitome of a business woman. Assertive and calm even in the face of Jormaine's obvious agitation. She probably dealt with the irate loved ones of patients all the time._ _

__“Director,” he greeted, clipped. “My _corpyr_ is unwell. I expect him to receive the best care.”_ _

__“Of course,” she replied with certainty. “We hire only the best, I assure you.”_ _

__“I need no assurances. I need results,” Jormaine said harshly, walking towards the entrance. Though the crew had brought out a mobile bed, Jormaine carried Tavion into the hospital without discussion, and he was grateful for it._ _

__As soon as the hospital staff spotted Jormaine, he was immediately directed to the private room they'd set aside for Tavion. Though he felt most comfortable in Jormaine's arms, he nonetheless sank into the bed when he was carefully placed down. Unfortunately, the peace ended there. He was immediately bombarded with questions about his symptoms and assaulted then tests. They seemed to be aware of the pregnancy because they asked him if he'd had any bleeding or cramps to which he snapped, “No,” insulted. If he had, he would have asked Esme to inform the Salases much sooner._ _

__All the while, Tavion was very aware of Jormaine hovering in the background. So was everyone else, for that matter. Some seemed to be able to work just fine despite his presence. Others were obviously nervous, and Tavion felt bad for inflicting Jormaine upon them. He wouldn't be here if not for him._ _

__The diagnosis came back quickly, and the director came to personally deliver the news. As soon as she entered the room, she was the sole focus of Jormaine’s intense gaze. “I want answers.”_ _

__She held her ground and did her job. “He's extremely dehydrated, _Litr,_ and has lost weight according to the records we had sent over. He's very likely suffering from hyperemesis. A severe type of nausea and vomiting that can happen while pregnant.”_ _

__Tavion startled. Weight loss? During pregnancy? That didn’t sound safe for the child._ _

__“What can be done?” Jormaine demanded._ _

__“We will start him on fluids immediately,” she replied. “We can try a few techniques to manage the nausea before we suggest any invasive procedures.”_ _

__“Very well,” Jormaine said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand._ _

__Tavion normally would have been offended that he wasn't consulted, but he was too exhausted to care. Letting Jormaine handle it was easier...and comforting. Once the fluids were started—and he was satisfied that things would be well—he surrendered to the need to sleep, secure in the knowledge that Jormaine would protect him._ _


	14. Suite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, y'all! Got busy, and Tavion wasn't cooperating. He wouldn't tell me what he wanted to do. xD

They kept him for three days. 

A day and a half would have been enough in Tavion's opinion, but Jormaine demanded they find a way for him to reliably keep _some_ food down before they released him. Though flustered by the solicitousness, Tavion rested easily knowing Jormaine would get results. It wasn't trust in the hospital; it was trust that they would do everything in their power to please the Avvai lord and avoid his wrath. 

Privately, it gave him immense satisfaction that Jormaine stayed with him at the hospital the entire time. Though she didn’t visit, Adeleena called to check on him once a day. She even asked if he needed her to come, but he said no. He wasn’t on death’s door, and it was ridiculous that even one of them was hovering. He didn’t need _both_ of them doing it. 

In the end, a small, daily dose of anti-nausea meds and a specific _tao_ —both safe for the baby—ended up being the right combination to help him keep light meals down consistently. Before he was released, they advised him to remain on bed rest for at least a week, and Jormaine gave him a look that told him he would be doing exactly that. Though Tavion didn't look forward to it, bed rest was a small price to pay to avoid worsening his condition. 

Jormaine let him walk ten steps out of the hospital before scooping him up in his arms and taking flight—sunlight illuminating the gold of his feathers. This time, because Tavion was no longer plagued by nausea and exhaustion, he was able to fully embrace the experience. He'd never had a fear of heights, but there was something heart-pounding about racing through the air—and something liberating as well.

A childish part of him suddenly longed for wings of his own. As if, with flight, he could better escape all of life's problems. Fly away and never look back. Except, unlike weeks ago, he now no longer dreamed of _escaping_ Vergate. 

He dreamed of making a home here. Both with the man that held him tightly to his chest and his wife. 

It was a fool's dream. One that couldn't happen unless they resolved this _corpyr_ thing. It depended on whether he would be willing to accept the title and whether he could accept them lying about it in the first place. 

The lying was why he hesitated, though he knew he’d lied to them as well. His life had been filled with liars, scavengers, and thieves. He wasn't desperate enough to accept a life of luxury if it meant tying himself to the same type of people he was trying to escape. Tavion had proven time and time again that he could take care of himself. He _needed_ to. That's why he'd chosen to sell himself rather than ask to return to his parents’ home. Just because he was allowing Jormaine and Adeleena to help him didn't mean he needed them to. 

If they couldn't prove they were worth forgiving, he would walk away. 

He wouldn't make his mother's mistakes.

Adeleena awaited them near the front door. She smiled as they landed, and when he was finally back on his own two feet, she said, “Welcome home.” The hand she placed on his arm may as well have been a hug for all the warmth it filled him with. “I hear there's good news?” 

“If by that you mean I can keep food down again, yeah,” he replied, deadpan. Which was really a small victory in a long battle. 

She contained a laugh. “That is fortunate because I've had a few of your favorites prepared.”

“Have them sent to his chambers,” Jormaine said. “He's on bed rest for a week.” 

Tavion glowered, and Adeleena gave him a sympathetic look. “The time will pass quickly, _srelir_ ,” she said, and although the sound of that particular nickname on her tongue was a surprise, it aroused him as much as it embarrassed him. 

“While you were gone, I took the liberty of having your things moved to the _corpyr_ chambers. Before you protest, Tavion, it is not a ploy to pressure you. You're made your position on the title quite clear. It's strictly to make the coming months easier for us all. It connects directly to ours, so we can more easily aid you when necessary.”

Tavion nearly got whiplash from conflicting emotions as he tried to digest all of that. First, irritation at not being asked permission prior to the move and then crushing disappointment that they had apparently accepted him rejection of the title so easily. He didn't necessarily want that door closed just yet, but he had so adamantly refused it that he couldn't blame them. He couldn't be upset that they were respecting his decision. Not when their lack of respect (amongst other things) had caused their latest argument. 

_‘Respect my choices! Except when I secretly don't really want you to!’_

He snorted inwardly at himself and said, “Okay,” aiming for neutrality. His disappointment was his own problem. Until he decided with absolute certainty that he wanted the title they'd thrust upon him, he wasn't going to bring it up.

“Excellent,” Adeleena said, looking pleased. “Shall we escort you there now?”

Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe, just maybe, they hadn't accepted his rejection at all and were hoping to change his mind over time—starting with this. Jormaine wasn't the type give up easily, and Adeleena had proven herself to be just as determined when it came to what she desired. 

Tavion would have to reflect on his own inconsistencies later—wanting to be respected when he said no and yet desiring to be pursued anyway. For now, he just wanted to enjoy being home. “Thank you.” 

With a smile, she tucked her arm delicately around his. The contact was exactly what he craved, but he was still too shy to initiate it. Tavion thought Jormaine might take a position on her other side, but he instead led the way. Which ended up saving him a moment of embarrassment moments later when Adeleena’s wing brushed his back and he startled at the unexpected sensation. 

After days away, physical contact with her was like relieving an ache. He’d missed her. Jormaine may be the link that had connected them, but what they shared now was just as strong—if different. He and Jormaine were a firestorm of passion, but he and Adeleena were companions turned lovers. Tavion cherished them both and the idea of one without the other no longer felt right.

If he didn't want to give them up, he would have to become their _Corpyr_ officially. 

Jormaine paused in front of a set of double doors, his golden wings stretching slightly as he pulled them open. After casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he stepped inside, and Tavion followed, pulling away from Adeleena to look around more freely. 

The suite was smaller than the Salases’ chambers but still far larger than he could ever imagine anyone needing. There was so much open space that even though it had every luxury imaginable (including a computer!), it looked nearly bare. 

Before he could finish taking it all in, Adeleena said, “You can have the colors redone, of course. I wasn't certain what you'd like. Come. The bedroom is this way.”

“This is... _mine_?” The question tumbled from his lips as he followed them, his brain muddled with shock. The bedroom was as grand as the rest of the suite. His own bed, dresser, bathroom, desk—and so much more. For the majority of the time he’d lived with his parents, he'd slept on a mattress on the floor. Staying in a chamber that had, in actuality, belonged to Jormaine was different than this. A bedroom area had been set up there as an afterthought. _This_ had been _designed_ for him. He could tell from the theme of the books that rested on the bookshelf to his study materials neatly laid upon the desk. 

“Everything in it is yours,” Adeleena assured him. 

Love couldn’t be measured in material things—and it couldn’t be bought—but this was beyond anything anyone had ever done. They’d give him something he hadn’t known he needed—a place of his own. 

It was too good to be true. “And if I wanted to sell it all?” he asked abruptly, testing them. “I could?”

“I won't be replacing it,” Jormaine said wryly, “But sell whatever you wish.”

The response stunned him. Money wasn't an issue for them, so maybe he shouldn't have been so moved by the gesture—but he was. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Adeleena said. “Let me know if there's any changes you'd like to make.”

Tavion nodded, but he certainly would not be doing that. The room was generous enough. He couldn’t imagine having the audacity to ask for anything to be changed. 

“Good. Now, shall we eat?”

He wasn't very hungry, but he agreed anyway—and yelped in surprise when Jormaine picked him up without warning, carrying him towards the bedroom. 

“You've walked enough today,” Jormaine said as he set him down on the bed. 

Tavion wanted to argue, but he'd already decided to follow the doctor's orders. The nurse had detailed what bed rest entailed, and Jormaine was right. He was supposed to stay off his feet unless necessary (such as trips to the washroom) and avoid strenuous activities. Eating, for now, would have to be done in bed. 

Adeleena joined them with two servants, in addition to Esme. They set up a small dining table at the bedside and gave Tavion a bed-tray. Then, they carried in platters of food and a cup of _tao_ for each of them. 

Tavion sipped at his drink while the servants finished their work, knowing he would need its help to keep food down. He'd already taken the anti-nausea meds for the day, but they weren't a hundred percent effective. The _tao_ would help with that. 

Before leaving, Esme flashed him a smile, and he returned it. It occurred to him that he hadn't paid much attention to the other servants—that he didn't even know their names. It felt wrong to take them for granted, but he knew they were treated well and paid generously. They didn't need his recognition, and he tended to avoid engaging them because he felt awkward being served. 

“Tavion?” 

He looked up and realized Adeleena had been speaking. “Sorry. What?” 

“Something on your mind?”

They didn't necessarily look concerned, but Adeleena seemed genuinely interested. There was no reason to lie, so he said, “I'm still not used to being served, is all.” 

“You’d do well to get used to it quickly,” Jornaine said, “Because I'm putting Esme under your command. She will no longer serve us.”

Anxiety constricted his chest. “You're firing her? You can't!”

Jormaine scoffed, and Adeleena quickly said, “No one is being fired, Tavion. She will still work with the rest of the staff, but she's been reassigned. Her primary concern is now you and your needs.”

Tavion blinked. 

“Her loyalty was already yours,” Jormaine added. “We simply made it official.”

That sparked a realization. “This is her punishment for covering for me?” It was far kinder than he'd expected based on how angry Jormaine had been. Still, she had told him more than once how much she loved working for the Salases. “Is she okay with the change? She adores you, you know?” 

Jormaine was unmoved. “I do. I can think of no one better to charge with serving and protecting a piece of my heart.”

Tavion's breath caught in his throat. He wasn't certain if Jormaine was referring to him or the child he carried, and he didn't want to ask—didn't want to risk the hurt. “Thanks for not firing her.”

Jormaine raised a brow. “That you have a soft spot for her may have played into my decision, but make no mistake. If her actions had caused you harm, there would have been no mercy.” 

Tavion met Jormaine's gaze and held his ground. He wouldn't stand for threats against Esme. She'd been a friend to him since his arrival, and this was one way he could repay her kindness. “Good thing she works for me now, then, huh?”

To his surprise, Jormaine gave a laugh. “Indeed.”

“Eat before the _tao_ gets cold,” Adeleena chided them. 

To Tavion's amusement, he and Jormaine obeyed without protest. With a smile, he sampled a finger sandwich, taking small bites and enjoying the companionable silence as they ate. By the time they were done, he was tired, and they could tell. 

“We'll leave you to rest,” Adeleena said, giving him a chaste kiss that nonetheless set him ablaze.

Tavion wanted to ask them to stay, to do more than kiss, but he didn't. He wouldn't until he knew if he would accept the title of _corpyr_ or not. As soon as they left, however, he wished he had. The bedroom was too large to feel secure, too new to feel homely. The bed felt empty and smelled foreign. 

“Esme?” he called out, wondering how he was supposed to get ahold of her. 

To his relief, the bedroom door opened. “Yes, _Corpyr_?” She blinked at him curiously, waiting to see how she could help. 

He wanted to talk to her about her job change but decided to shelf that for later. When he was more awake. “Can I get some more pillows? Possibly from Jormaine and Adeleena?” Their scents. He craved their scents, and he didn't understand why. All he knew was that it would help.

Despite the oddity of the request, she smiled. “Of course.” 

Tavion didn't have to wait long for her to return with as many pillows as she could carry. 

“Will that be all, _Corpyr_?” 

He gave it thought. “I have to take a specific type of tao every time I eat, and I have to eat smaller, more frequent meals.”

Esme nodded. “The kitchen staff knows, but I will check again. Is six meals a day good?”

Six meals a day, no matter how small, was probably too much, but he would try. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Sleep well, _Corpyr_.” She dipped her head and left, still smiling.

Tavion got the feeling that she didn't mind the change of jobs after all. 

After arranging the pillows around himself, creating a secure nest, he finally fell asleep.

 

True to his promise (to himself), he asked Esme to help him learn Avvai culture the next day—after taking time to settle into his new rooms. Since he was on bed rest for the next week (and Esme was enthusiastic about helping), the lessons began immediately. Tavion had no idea where to start, so he let her choose. 

She chose Avvai hierarchy. 

The Cadre, she explained, were the absolute rulers of the Avvai race. They reigned from their homeworld, as there was some agreed upon rule that stated they could not live off-planet. When he asked how one became Cadre, Esme said, “Every rank is a measure of an Avvai's _kajin_. To be Cadre is to be one of the strongest Avvai. A trial must to be passed in order to earn the title, but it's a formality.”

Tavion had no idea how _kajin_ was measured, but he remembered the feeling of Jormaine's raw power thickening the air in the room. He'd thought it was an intimidation tactic, but maybe it hadn't been. Maybe the power of high powered Avvai was simply that obvious, but if that was true, wouldn’t Tavion know more about Jormaine’s _kajin_?

His attention snapped back to Esme. “Wait. What?” he asked, thinking he'd misheard her while he was musing. 

Esme gave him an impatient look, and it was so uncharacteristic of her that he grinned. He liked that she felt comfortable enough to give him honest reactions. 

“I said _Litr_ Salas was Cadre.”

That wiped the smile off of his face, and Esme proceeded to tell him that Jormaine had been Cadre before he moved to Vergate. He had essentially given up his place amongst their rulers to do so, and Tavion couldn't fathom why anyone would do that. Why _Jormaine_ —a man who was the embodiment of power—would do that.

Esme then explained that below the Cadre were the _Litr_ and _Liry_ —the Lords and Ladies of the Avvai. As with Cadre members, it was a rank decided by inherent power. His mind, however, was still on what he'd learned about Jormaine. 

“Why did he step down from the Cadre?” Tavion asked as soon as Esme invited questions.

“This is something you must discuss with him, _Corpyr_ ,” she replied. 

He made a face that she ignored. 

“Now, I will teach you about—” 

“The _corpyr_ title, please,” he said, interrupting her. If he was going to make a decision, he needed to arm himself with knowledge. 

Esme bowed her head with a smile. “Of course, _Corpyr_ ,” she said and began the lesson. 

It was as Adeleena and Jormaine said. A _corpyr_ was, more or less, a consort to a _Litr_ or _Liry_. According to Esme, the title was given to lovers of an Avvai lord or lady that were important but could not become a _Litr_ or _Liry_ themselves. 

“If Liry Salas had not been powerful enough for the rank of _Liry_ , she would be _Corpyr_ ,” Esme explained. 

“Even though she's his wife?” 

Esme gave him a patient look. “Wife is not an Avvai concept, _Corpyr_.”

Right. “Even though she's Bonded to him?”

“It depends. Most _Litrs_ and _Lirys_ would not Bond to someone of lesser rank,” she replied, “But it has happened. In those cases, their Bonded gains some of their power—often becoming of equal rank.”

“So, Avvai can only be ‘husband and wife’ if they're of equal power?”

She beamed. “Yes!”

“If they're not of equal rank but want to be recognized as lovers, the one of lesser rank becomes their _corpyr_?”

“Yes!” 

Esme looked quite proud of his understanding. Meanwhile, Tavion took a breath, trying not to let Avvai hierarchy drive him insane. 

“Is it true that a _corpyr_ must Bond?” he asked. 

“Yes. A _corpyr_ is always a lover. For there to be trust, they must Bond.” 

That made no sense. “Yet a spouse isn’t required to Bond?”

“Spouses are often contractual partners, Corpyr,” Esme said. “Bonding is for lovers.” 

He had more questions, but his head was already spinning from information overload. “I'm getting kind of tired, Esme. Can we leave it there for now?”

“Of course, _Corpyr_. Before you rest, perhaps some fruit and a cup of _tao_?”

Though he was starting to suspect she was acting on the Salases’ orders to keep him well fed, he nodded. He'd decided yesterday that whenever he ate without Jormaine and Adeleena, he would ask her to join him. Esme took the opportunity to make sure he ate, and he made sure she took a break from working. More than that, he enjoyed the company. He liked to think she did too, but maybe he was deluding himself. 

“Esme?” he said abruptly. 

She glanced up curiously. “Yes?” 

“If I asked you to call me Tavion, would you?”

She looked horrified. “But you are _Corpyr_!”

Tavion snorted. “You know I haven't accepted the title, right?”

Esme gave a serious nod. “Yes, but until you deny it, you will always be _Corpyr_ to me.”

Well, that was oddly touching. He wondered what he'd done to inspire such loyalty.

When they were done eating, she cleaned up and left, wishing him a restful sleep. 

With his new knowledge—and the reminder that he had to make a decision regarding the _corpyr_ title—it wasn't.


	15. Dancing

Even after days of bed rest—giving him plenty of time to think—Tavion was no closer to deciding what to do. Every day that passed felt like another day closer to letting happiness slip through his fingers. It didn't help that he had no idea how long he had left to officially accept or deny the title, and he was too afraid to ask. Esme might know, but he didn't want anyone alerting the Salases that he was looking into it. 

Because he couldn't spend every second of every day pondering his future (lest he go insane), he had Esme teach him more about Avvai culture and language. When he wasn't doing that, he was studying, eating, or sleeping. It was uneventful, but he didn't mind that as much as he disliked being confined. Why did resting have to feel like a prison sentence? 

Adeleena and Jormaine did their best to keep him company. During the second day—while Jormaine was catching up on work—she came into his bedroom with a little bottle and said, “Massage time.”

He'd never gotten a massage before, but even though he was flustered at the offer, it didn't take much to convince him. 

“It'll be good for your muscles. Bed rest can he hard on the body,” she insisted. 

Wasn't bed rest supposed to be good for the body?

“Now, take off your shift and turn over.”

Tavion did so, embarrassingly eager for her touch. 

“The oil should feel warm on the skin. Now, relax.”

Her hands traced his shoulders, and suddenly relaxing was the last thing on his mind. He groaned. Her hands were soft, but her touch grew firmer until she was kneading his muscles, working out the knots and kinks. She focused on each spot until the pain dulled to an ache. As promised, the oil was soothingly warm, and it smelled of something sweet—something he couldn't identify.

“Tavion?” 

He groggily opened his eyes and realized he must have dozed. “Hm?”

“How do you feel?” 

“Mmm. Good.” His muscles felt warm and loose. 

“Excellent. Now, how about a small lunch?”

The muscles she'd worked out were tender for the rest of the day, but a hot bath helped. The next day, when she offered another massage, he accepted the pampering without protest. 

Jormaine joined them for lunch the third day. When they were done eating, Adeleena kissed them both on the cheek and departed, saying she had something to attend to. Then, he and Jormaine were alone. Tavion suddenly felt awkward and self-conscious. Before the hospital, they'd fought, and he didn't know what to expect. 

The Avvai lord stunned him by saying, “I apologize for being absent.”

“It's not a problem,” Tavion said. “Adeleena said you've been working.”

“Yes.”

There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but he held back. Prodding would be difficult since Tavion had no idea what was on his mind. It seemed he never really knew what was on Jormaine's mind. That was no way to build a relationship. He wanted Tavion to be their _Corpyr_ , but they weren't much better than strangers. Okay, so they knew each other better than _that_ , but the majority of their time together was spent having sex. Not that Tavion minded their bedroom activities… He _really_ liked those, but he wanted to get to know Jormaine better. 

_Why isn't he as easy to talk to as Adeleena?_

Well, that wasn't really a fair comparison. They were two very different Avvai. Still, when he watched them interact, he saw a different side of Jormaine. A side, currently, only Adeleena saw.

Suddenly, he realized he'd been staring at Jormaine silently for far too long not to be awkward. With his thoughts still on the couple, he blurted out the first question that came to mind. “How did you and Adeleena meet?” He knew the details Adeleena had shared, but he wanted to hear more.

Eyes of liquid gold stared at him. After a moment passed in silence, Tavion was certain Jormaine was going to refuse to answer. “After I moved to Vergate, _Liry_ V'asigix hosted a gala to honor my arrival.”

Tavion didn't know that name, but he remembered that Jormaine had been Cadre. _Liry_ V'asigix, whoever she was, had likely been very eager to earn his favor. He wanted to ask why Jormaine had moved to Vergate, but he didn't. It didn't feel like the right time. 

“Members from every prominent family were there, including many that weren't Avvai.”

In other words, everyone wanted the chance to build a positive relationship with the ex-Cadre member. 

“The mingling had just begun when a commotion broke the monotony—an Avvai woman slapping a suitor who was getting too aggressive. I didn't know her name, I realized. I remember thinking it strange. Everyone had rushed to introduce themselves, but this woman hadn't. So, after I ordered the man removed, I had her brought to me. She was as pristine and proper as any lady of the court, but there was defiance in her eyes. I'll never forget what she said when I tried to introduce myself. ‘I know who you are,’ clipped and bold. Her escort’s look of horror at her tone was delightful. After she gave me her name, I invited her to dance.” 

Adeleena hadn't told him any of that.

“Afterwards, we talked before I was called away. By the time I was free, she'd left.” There was adoration on Jormaine's face as he recalled that night. Then, he snapped out of it and said matter-of-factly, “The next day, I made arrangements to meet with her family and discuss marriage.”

Tavion didn't think a comment of ‘that was quick’ would be appreciated. So, instead, he said, “You dance?”

Jormaine raised a brow. “Of course. Every man should know how to dance.”

Tavion knew what saying, “I don’t,” would invite, but he did it anyway, baiting the older man. 

Too smart to miss an opportunity, Jormaine said, “I’ll teach you.” Extending a hand, he pulled Tavion to his feet and led him into the middle of the room. 

“Am I gonna dance the woman part?” Tavion groused. 

Jormaine gave him a ‘stop being so uncultured’ look filled with impatience. “There is no _‘woman part.’_ There is a lead and a follower. Gender has nothing to do with it.”

Tavion’s disbelief was transparent. “Uh-uh, and let me guess. I'm the follower?” 

“When you know how to lead, you can lead,” Jormaine said, amused. 

That held some appeal. “I'm holding you to that.” 

“Ambitious for a man that doesn't even know how to dance. Now, put your hands on my shoulders.” 

Tavion did, and Jormaine put his own hands just above his waist. This was clearly a dance intended for romantic partners. Why else did they need to stand so close? Nearly chest to chest, he could feel Jormaine's warmth, and it was suddenly hard to focus. 

“This is a simple, slow dance. All you need to do is trust me to lead you.”

“Okay.” Tavion didn't know about trust, but Jormaine's skill made up for any lack of it. It was clear Jormaine had danced with many who weren't as skilled as he was because he was a master at guiding his dance partner, even when Tavion stumbled for no foreseeable reason. 

“Keep your eyes on your dance partner at all times,” Jormaine instructed. “Let them know they're your sole focus—that the universe has become just you and them.”

With Jormaine’s gilded eyes staring into his own, it _did_ feel that way. Having the complete focus of a being so powerful should have been intimidating, but Tavion wasn't afraid. 

So, they danced. Eventually, Tavion could read Jormaine's intentions in his body language, and it became even easier to move with him. It was more fun that he'd thought it would be, and despite the fact that there was no music, it wasn't unnatural. 

Unfortunately, before another dance lesson could begin, a bout of nausea struck. Lightheaded, he groaned and said, “I think I need to rest for a second.”

“Are you unwell?” Jormaine steadied him, voice as concerned as it was demanding. 

“Nausea,” was all he could get out. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. 

Jormaine slowly guided him back to bed, not giving him a choice. “A lesson was a mistake,” he said tersely once Tavion was settled.  
“No,” Tavion said quickly. “It was great.” He had so much more he wanted to learn, wanted to ask. 

“No more until you've finished with bed rest,” Jormaine said. “I'll send for Esme and leave you to rest.”

Did Jormaine think he would rather have Esme with him? When Jormaine made a hasty exit, he realized the answer was yes, and why shouldn't he? When he'd fallen ill, instead of reaching out to him or Adeleena, he'd turned to Esme. 

He'd made quite a mess, hadn't he? 

_You need to figure out what you want._

 

Thankfully, by the next day, the meds and _tao_ had him feeling better. While he served the rest of his bed rest sentence, nausea only struck four more times, and on the either day, the doctor cleared him to return to light activity. 

Tavion privately wondered if a bedroom session with the Salases counted as ‘light activity,’ but when he recalled intimate moments with Jormaine, he decided it probably didn't. Despite his resolution not to sleep with them until he made a choice, he felt drawn to them in ways he'd never thought possible. After seeing where love had led his mother—and he had no doubt she loved his father no matter his cruelty—he'd come to believe that loving relationships was a fabrication. 

“ _Corpyr?_ ”

Tavion met Esme's worried gaze.

“You have not eaten. Should I—”

“Just lost in thought, Esme. I'm fine.” He almost smiled at the disbelief on her face. Emboldened by her growing honesty with him, he asked, “What would you do if someone wanted you to Bond with them and you weren't sure if you should?” 

Esme's brows furrowed, and she frowned in thought. “I have not been in this position.”

“Humor me?” He had no one else to talk to, and he needed a new perspective. 

Though reluctant, she said, “I would follow my heart.”

For a woman who had been treated terribly by so many to believe in love was inspiring as it was astounding. She was one of the strongest people he'd ever met. “Even if you had doubts?” he asked. 

Esme looked thoughtful. “I have heard that faith without doubt is weak because faith must be tested. Maybe love is like this, _Corpyr_? Maybe love must be doubted to be made stronger.”

Huh. As he pondered that bit of wisdom, he said, “Thanks, Esme.”

She smiled and ducked her head shyly. “Permission to speak freely, _Corpyr_?”

That caught his attention. “Always.” He never wanted her to feel like she had to watch what she said because, to him, she wasn't a servant. She was a friend, and he'd had so few friends in his life. None that had lasted.

“You won't reach a decision by avoiding their chambers,” she said. 

Tavion laughed, enjoying the bold and honest comment. Then, he gave her a sincere smile. “ _Xirisc yia,_ Esme,” he thanked her.

She looked embarrassed. “ _Qorti’qlos, Corpyr._ ”

He took Esme's advice to heart. Decisions couldn't be made in a vacuum, so that night (after they'd all retired to their bedrooms), Tavion cleaned up and adorned his most flattering outfit. He didn't really have a plan, and although he feared they might reject him, he knew he had to try. He missed them, and starving himself of their touch wasn't helping clear his head or untangle his emotions. 

Their bedroom door was closed, and although it was quiet, the light from under the door told him they were awake. So, after taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. He glanced towards the bed only long enough to ensure both Adeleena and Jormaine were present. When he saw they were, he dropped to his hands and knees—adopting the position Jormaine had demanded when they first started their bedroom games. 

No one spoke, but Tavion heard one of them get off of the bed. Even with his head bowed, he saw when Jormaine's golden wingtips entered his sight. 

“What do you think?” Jormaine asked.

Adeleena made a considerate sound from the bed. “I think he wants to play, my love.”

Tavion tried not to shiver in anticipation, grateful they were receptive to his gesture. Usually he let them initiate their games, but not tonight. Tonight he would make his desires known. 

“Yes. He longs for his master, but there's the matter of his punishment to consider.” Jormaine gripped his jaw tightly, forcing him to look up. Arousal raced through Tavion when he met those eyes of gold, burning with harsh desire. “Why do you deserve to be punished, _srelir_?” 

He didn't need to think long. He'd only done one thing recently that had angered the Avvai lord. “I concealed my illness from you and _Liry_ Salas for days, master.”

Jormaine inclined his head. “You must be punished.”

“Yes, master.”

“Unfortunately, I am not the only one your deception hurt.” He glanced towards Adeleena and then back to Tavion. “You must earn your mistress’ forgiveness as well.”

Tavion very much wanted Adeleena involved in their games, so he bowed his head to her. “Please forgive me, mistress.”

In response, he listened to her stand and come to Jormaine's side. “You must earn forgiveness, _srelir_.”

He remained silent, waiting to hear what his punishment would be. 

“Strip.” Jormaine's impatience was obvious. 

Tavion moved quickly, disregarding his clothes and then resumed kneeling when he was done. 

“Bend over the bed. You know the position.” 

Heat rushed through him, and he hurried to obey. The vulnerability of the position never failed to arouse him, and this time was no different. When he felt Jormaine come up behind him, he spread his legs further apart as he'd been taught. 

There was no warning. A harsh smack met his bare flesh, and he hissed. A heartbeat of nothing, and then a hand fisted his hair and yanked his head back. 

“Forgetting something?” Jormaine growled. 

“One,” Tavion said through gritted teeth. 

“Good.” Jormaine released him, and a second smack made Tavion jolt. 

“T-two.”

It wasn't the pain he enjoyed. No, it wouldn't have been a punishment if he did. Tavion enjoyed the vulnerability, the submission. Surrendering to Jormaine’s will. Even when he was dealing out punishment, he knew how to make Tavion want him. A quick caress, breath on the back of his neck.  
His legs shook by the ninth blow, and when the eleventh came, he broke and pleaded for forgiveness. Still Jormaine continued, spanking him until he reached twenty and Tavion's rear was a blur of agony. 

“Turn around. On your knees.”

Tavion struggled to obey, trying to ignore the protest of his bruised flesh. 

Jormaine stood in front of him, undoing his pants to reveal his erect length. Tavion wanted it inside of him, but it seemed Jormaine had other ideas. His hands wrapped around the back of Tavion's head, threading his hair and guiding his mouth towards his member. He opened as wide as he could, greedily swallowing as much as he could. It was no easy task—and he nearly gagged—but desire gave him determination. The scent and taste of Jormaine filled his senses as he began his task. By the stars, he loved doing this, loved the way Jormaine reacted. The usually stoic man made little sounds of pleasure that were driving Tavion wild. 

His master didn't seem to want it slow, didn't want to be licked and teased. After less than a minute, he used his grip to direct Tavion, rutting into his mouth at a pace that had him choking. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but that was the point, wasn't it? Then, as abruptly as he started, Jormaine stopped and released his grip. He hadn't finished, but he pulled away and left Tavion looking up at him in confusion. 

“Your mistress is being neglected. Go to her.”

This was new territory, but Tavion was eager to see what Adeleena would want. When he tried to stand, Jormaine put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back down. “You will crawl until you have earned forgiveness. Do you understand?” 

Tavion's knees and rear ached in protest, but he said, “Yes, master,” and crawled towards the bed. When he reached the side, he looked up to find Adeleena smiling down at him softly. They hadn't interacted much for him to know what to expect, so he bowed his head and subserviently said, “How may I serve you, mistress?” 

She patted the bed invitingly, and he joined her. “Do you have experience with women, _srelir_?” 

His gut twisted in embarrassment. “No, mistress,” he admitted. 

Rather than the teasing comments he feared, Adeleena said, “Will you allow me to teach you?” 

Tavion swallowed, anticipation making his heart pound. His member strained at the idea, and he quickly said, “Please.”

Her hand gripped his chin and pulled him closer so that she could kiss him. Soft lips captured his, gentle but no less passionate because of it. She tasted as sweet as the fruits he favored, and he hummed in approval. 

“You spoil him,” Jormaine said, a reminder he was watching. 

Adeleena's lips smiled against Tavion's before she pulled away to look at her husband. “Don't pay him any mind, _srelir_ ” As she turned back to him, she began unbuttoning her shirt, and Tavion flushed when she slipped it off. The curve of her breasts caught his eye, and though he tried not to stare, he couldn't look away as she removed her undergarment. 

She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. 

Tavion was way out of his league. 

Adeleena smiled, not bothering to hide her amusement. “Your shyness is as endearing as your stubbornness. Come closer.”

Though he flushed at how easily she could read him, he did as instructed. She grasped his wrists, fingers momentarily tracing the golden bangle that Tavion had forgotten he was wearing. Slowly, she brought his hands to her breasts and released him, as if setting him free to explore. His hesitation lasted only a moment, and then the need to please her drove him forward. 

He let his palms roam the silky smoothness of her breasts before cupping them, enjoying the weight. She made a sound of approval, and because he wasn't completely ignorant when it came to women, he brushed his thumb across her right nipple to see how sensitive she was. 

Adeleena made a small sound and then laughed breathlessly. “I promise I'm not made of glass.”

That gave him courage. He lowered his mouth to her right nipple and traced a circle around it with his tongue. The breathy sigh she gave was like an injection of arousal. He leaned in, capturing that same nipple and sucking lightly. 

Adeleena threw her head back with a muffled moan, wings spreading wide. 

“Yes, _srelir_. Like that.” 

The praise fueled his passion. He sucked gently, slowly increasing the pressure and intermittently using his tongue to stroke. Then, he switched, not leaving an inch of her neglected. He licked and sucked and teased until, to his surprise, she reached down to begin removing the rest of her clothes. He wordlessly helped her, dutiful and eager. 

Adeleena glanced over his shoulder—likely looking to Jormaine—before meeting his eyes. Eyes locked, she lied back and spread her legs invitingly. Tavion went breathless at the sight of her most intimate area on display. Rosey and already slick, his member pulsed with need. 

“Prepare your mistress,,” Jormaine commanded from behind. “With your mouth.”

Just the idea sent a shiver down his spine. He was as eager as he was afraid that he wouldn't be good at this, but he intended to do his best. Enthusiasm had to count for something, right?

Without delay, he knelt between her legs—her knees spread as wide as her wings—leaned in, and stroked her with his tongue experimentally. The taste was nothing like he'd expected. Though the smell was strong, her slick was sweet, and he swiped his tongue into her folds for a second taste. This was his first time exploring a woman, so it took him a moment to find the nub he knew would give her the most pleasure. Once he did, however, he focused on it. 

A single lick made her arch into him, as if pleading for more, so he traced circles over it. Once she began to writhe, he finally tried sucking on that sensitive flesh. His reward was Adeleena gasping and bucking into his mouth. His hands instinctively held on, helping him keep his mouth in place. He alternated between strokes and sucking until she cried out with pleasure, muscles quivering as she came. Her wings fluttered and twitched as she sagged into the mattress. Sated Adeleena was quite the sight. Tousled hair, ruffled feathers, and flushed skin. 

A hand gripped his shoulder—Jormaine guiding him off the bed. 

“Kneel.” 

Tavion did and, with the taste of Adeleena still on his lips, watched as Jormaine swiftly climbed atop her, guided her legs apart, and buried himself inside of her in a single thrust. With his wings arched behind him, he set a vigorous pace, and Adeleena wrapped her legs around him while making appreciative moans. 

It was hard to watch. Not because it felt wrong but because he wished he was part of it. He craved Jormaine inside of him, an ache only a thorough fucking could satisfy, but that now contended with a new desire—to have Adeleena. It was an intimidating thought, but he wanted it. Unfortunately, Jormaine didn't seem to have any intention of inviting him to join them. 

Though his knees and rear ached, Tavion knew with absolute clarity that _this_ was his true punishment. All he could do was watch as Jormaine worshipped Adeleena, hands and mouth roaming. The passion with which she met him thrust for thrust sparked jealousy in Tavion's gut, a jealousy he tried to squash. He suddenly knew, more than felt, that he would never share what they had together. 

Weighed down with insecurity and still achingly aroused, he nonetheless continued to kneel, watching as they climaxed together. Jormaine didn't unsheathe himself immediately. Instead, he kissed a trail up Adeleena's neck, chin, and then mouth, languid and loving. 

Just when Tavion was certain he'd been forgotten, Jormaine withdrew and stood. Golden eyes swept over him. 

“Please, master,” Tavion begged, taking Jormaine's acknowledgment as permission to speak. 

“If you want to come, you best plead with your mistress,” Jormaine replied harshly. “Or did you think I would forgive you so easily? Your past transgressions are nothing compared to this. When you risk your health, you face consequences. Do you understand?” 

It hadn't occurred to Tavion that Jormaine had actually been concerned for his health. Tavion thought it was an issue of control—Jormaine was a domineering man, after all—but it was apparently far deeper than that. Jormaine had been afraid for him, concerned for him.

“Yes, master,” Tavion said. 

“You'll get nothing from me until you've earned forgiveness.”

Tavion desperately wanted to do just that, to mend the broken trust between them—a rift caused by both of them and their recent actions. 

Fortunately, they had Adeleena as a bridge. “Come to bed. Both of you.”

Her demand was met with silence at first, but when Jormaine listened, Tavion took it as permission to do the same. He crawled until he reached the edge, conscious of Jormaine's order that he do so until he was forgiven. 

“We have all made mistakes,” Adeleena said, reaching out to take a hand from each of them.

“We have not gambled our health or his,” Jormaine retorted. 

The slave guise slipped away in an instant, and Tavion snapped, “Yeah, well, at least I didn't announce you as my soulbound fiance without your permission!”

Jormaine looked offended at the oversimplification. 

Before he could correct him, Tavion added, “Besides, it was just nausea.”

Cold fury turned Jormaine's expression dark. “You went hungry, _in my home_ , while I was a mere floor away. You suffered needlessly, and I could do nothing to help because I knew nothing was wrong!” 

He didn't know how to reply to that outburst or to the implication that Jormaine felt at all responsible. 

“Tavion,” Adeleena said gently. He looked at her, too upset to be distracted by the fact that they were all still naked. “We are learning each other as we go along, but if there's one thing I know for certain, it's this: relationships are about making allowances--compromises. Everyone has needs. If we cannot meet each other's needs and a compromise cannot be reached—”

“I can make compromises,” Tavion quickly said. “It just feels like I'm the only one making them.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it because he knew that wasn't true. 

“You’ve made many,” Adeleena agreed. “But we must ask you to make one more. We have so little information on Lum'a pregnancy. What might seem natural for pregnancy in others may not be for you.”

She had a good point but, “I don't want to complain about every little ache and pain.”

“Then don't think of it as complaining. Think of it as keeping us informed. This is our child as well.”

Wait. Wasn't it _only_ theirs?

Adeleena took his hand once more, sincerity and sentiment in her gaze. “This may be our only child, Tavion. We want every experience you're willing to give.” Then, she smiled mischievously, leaned in, and said, “And Jormaine would love nothing more than to wait on you hand and foot.”

Tavion suppressed a smile. “Okay.” It was a reasonable request, and if Adeleena—who would never experience pregnancy for herself—wanted to be involved, well, that was something he could easily do for her. 

“ _Xirisc yia,_ ” Adeleena said, smiling softly. 

“ _Xirisc yia,_ ” Jormaine echoed her gratitude.

Tavion couldn't remember ever being thanked by Jormaine. It was surreal. “ _Qorti’qlos,_ ” he said. Then, after a moment of silence, asked, “Now what?”

“Now, _srelir_ ,” Jormaine purred, coming closer. “We move forward.” 

It turned out that Jormaine's idea of moving forward was giving him mind-blowing oral sex while Adeleena held him down. Afterwards, he fell asleep sandwiched between his two lovers, feeling more secure than he could ever remember.


	16. Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos. ♥

Tavion adhered to Adeleena's advice and let Jormaine care for him. At night, often while pounding into him from behind, Jormaine whispered promises of pampering, and by day he fulfilled them. Mostly that translated to Jormaine checking in on him more than usual, ensuring he'd eaten and asking him if he needed anything. Sometimes they talked for hours and sometimes Jormaine continued his dance lessons. Some days, Tavion found all of the attention to be suffocating. Not that he was going to complain about the foot massages or the sweet treats his suite was stocked with. Nor did he mind the way both Avvai brushed their wings against him affectionately now and again. 

Tavion's independent spirit bristled every now and again, but a larger part of him enjoyed the feeling of being treasured. _This must be what love feels like,_ he mused one night as he drifted off in their bed. He spent nearly every night with them, enjoying the non-sexual contact as much as the sexual. There was an indescribable peace that came with being held, and once he felt it, he spent many nights in Jormaine's arms. Other nights he fell asleep while curled into Adeleena. 

If this was an indication of how life with Jormaine and Adeleena would be long term, then he finally knew what his answer was. 

 

“Is this enough, _Corpyr_?” one of the kitchen staff asked as they handed him the bowl of milk-soaked meat he'd asked for. 

“Looks good,” he replied, pretending he knew what he was doing. He didn't, but no one else needed to know that. 

One of Jormaine's new rescues, a yol with a gentle blue eyes, had given birth to three cubs. Though they survived mostly off of milk for the first few weeks, they had tiny teeth that enabled them to eat softened meat. The mother was still recovering from malnutrition, so Jormaine made a fuss of helping feed the cubs. Since he was working late, Tavion decided to take up the task. Jormaine had been great lately, so Tavion wanted to do something for him in return. What better way to show appreciation than caring for the yols he loved? 

It was a brisk night, and not that long ago his attention would have been preoccupied with making plans about how he would keep warm throughout the night. Having a place to live changed that, but he still remembered those times vividly. Remembered being so cold, so hungry, that he thought he'd die before morning came. 

Tavion placed the bowl down and peered into the little house the mother yol was using as a den. The estate was well lit, thankfully, so he could see and navigate with ease. “Yana?” 

The yol quickly came out with her tail wagging. Three little cubs trailed behind her, making sharp squeaks of excitement. Two were a dull brown, like their mother, but one was white speckled with grey. As they romped around his feet, he wondered if Jormaine had named them yet. If he had, he hadn't shared, so Tavion decided to nickname them. The larger brown one he named Nip because of the way it tugged at his leg with its teeth. Excited by the scent of meat-soaked milk, the smaller one yapped, so Tavion dubbed it Yip. The last one, because he was so very creative, he nicknamed Spot. 

After giving Yana a few strips of fresh meat, he began to hand feed the cubs. He could see why Jormaine preferred to do this task personally every night. The cubs were precious. Stumbling and whining, they crowded around him to beg, and he found himself assaulted with licks and playful chewing as he blundered his way through feeding them. His hands and arms were covered in saliva and tiny teeth scrapes by the time he was done, but it was well worth the effort. 

Yana watched from afar, using this as an opportunity to rest. 

“Don't get used to it,” he told her. “I'm just a temporary cub-sitter.”

She yawned and put her head on her paws. Then, Nip climbed into his lap. 

“A coordinated scheme,” Tavion cooed at the cub as it began to chew on his sleeves. Nip came over to curl up against his hip and Spot laid its head on his leg. 

Apparently he wasn't going to be allowed to leave anytime soon, so Tavion settled in. It wasn't exactly a hardship, enjoying the sounds of the night while surrounded by the warmth of three fluffballs. He dozed as he pet one of the cubs, enjoying the sensation of running his palms over their soft coats. 

It was still dark when he was woken by the sound of footsteps. Years of necessity made him a light sleeper, so he was alert within moments. Even in the dark of night, he could see the silhouette of a man and the outline of wings. When Yana stood, tail wagging, and went to greet the person, Tavion relaxed ever so slightly. 

“I didn't intend to wake you,” came Jormaine's voice, soft. Almost subdued. 

His tone caught Tavion's attention. Something was wrong. 

He sat up slowly, trying not to jostle the cubs who were sound asleep. “Probably shouldn't be sleeping outside anyway.”

Jormaine didn't correct his grammar or acknowledge his comment in any way. He didn't even attempt to pet Yara. 

Tavion didn't know what to do. Peeling the cubs off of him one at a time (while whispering apologies to them), he placed them gently on the ground and stood. 

“I fed her and the cubs,” he said, gesturing to Yara. “That's why I was out here.”

“Thank you.” 

At least _that_ got a reaction. “Coming to bed?” Maybe Adeleena would be able to decipher this odd mood. 

Jormaine looked up, as if searching the night sky for something. “Not yet.”

Tavion hesitated, not sure he wanted to leave Jormaine alone when he was in such a strange mood. 

“Go inside. I'll be along momentarily.” 

The Avvai clearly wanted to be alone, and, regardless of what he said, Tavion didn't know if Jormaine needed him to go or to stay. When the silence persisted, Tavion surrendered and went inside, eager to see if Adeleena could help. Unfortunately, she was asleep, and without a clue about what to do, he crawled into bed with her. Despite his worry, he eventually dozed while waiting. 

Jormaine never joined them. 

 

Tavion woke alone, still dwelling on the night before, and after freshening up, he sought out Adeleena. To his surprise, she was reading a newspaper at the modest-sized dining table in their suite. There was food, but it was clear she hadn't yet eaten. When he entered, she put down the paper and gave him her full attention. It was concerning, to say the least, and he immediately wondered if he'd invoked her ire.

“Good morning, Tavion. I have something to discuss with you, but I want you to read this first.”

She didn't sound angry, and her words piqued his interest. After returning her greeting, he sat down beside her and read the article she'd indicated. He'd never really read newspapers in the past. “Rubbish,” his father called most papers, and he refused to “let that trash into” _his_ house. In recent years, he got most of his news as tidbits from those gossiping around dumpster fires as they gathered for warmth. 

Aware that Adeleena was waiting, he tried to focus and read. 

An Avvai man, the article said, had been left in the middle of downtown Vergate late last night, his wings shredded and ripped from his body. Bloody and broken, not a single person had stepped in to help him for the hours that he'd suffered before he died—all because of a single golden feather that told them it was Jormaine Salas’ will. 

The article left nothing out, detailing the Avvai's injuries and providing a photo that made Tavion sick to his stomach. Its author called Jormaine cruel, a dictator and an executioner who ruled through fear and intimidation. 

When he was done, he looked up to find Adeleena watching him expectantly. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but he did his best to process what he was feeling before he spoke. At first, fear had precedent. The logical assumption was that if Jormaine could do this to someone else, he could do it to Tavion. Except, he knew that wasn't true. Jormaine was a powerful Avvai, sure, but he'd never hurt Tavion—outside their consensual bedroom activities. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Jormaine was dangerous. Tavion also knew Jormaine wasn't dangerous to him. 

Then, he realized he'd simply assumed Jornaine was guilty, as the author had done. There was the chance he wasn't, so Tavion met Adeleena's eyes and asked, “Did he even do it?”

“I have no doubt he did,” she calmly replied. 

Tavion would have been alarmed if not for the casualness of her tone. She didn't sound shocked or appalled, and he suddenly felt as though they were having two different conversations. 

“He tortured a man,” he said, as if pointing out something she may have missed. 

“Yes.”

Tavion couldn't get the image from the article out of his brain. Horror was not something he wished to feel towards a lover, but that's what he felt when he imagined Jormaine rending the wings from a fellow Avvai. It was the ultimate punishment for a race meant to soar the skies. 

“Why?” Even as he asked, his brain tried to connect the pieces, tried to make sense of it all. “He didn't do it in secret. He marked him and left him in a public place.” There was only one reason to do that. “As a warning to others.” But why? “What did the man do?” 

The Avvai were known to be quite ruthless. They were inherently stronger and harder to hurt. Perhaps because of that, they tended to look down on other races, making them difficult to accept authority outside their own. Law enforcement was, at best, understaffed in Vergate, so they were happy to let the Avvai police their own. According to Esme, that was the job of the Cadre on Altair. Was it Jormaine's here?

“As you know,” Adeleena began, “We own nearly all of the ports on Vergate.” 

Tavion nodded because that was common knowledge. 

“Many products, legal and illegal, go through Vergate everyday. When Jormaine took over, he made it clear to everyone what his ports could and could not be used for. He works with any and all willing to follow his rules, regardless of their business.”

Meaning he very likely worked with criminals. Tavion had associated with criminals daily while living on the streets, but most were petty thieves and drug addicts. He got the feeling the criminals Jormaine worked with weren't so trivial. 

“This man broke those rules. He was caught trafficking children.”

Tavion suppressed a shudder. Slavers made his skin crawl. Every homeless man and woman knew that a lifetime of slavery could await them if they were caught by one because, well, who would report them missing? Who would look for them? They were easy prey. Slavery was no longer legal on Vergate, but neither was selling certain drugs or laundering money—yet all three (and more) happened daily. Law enforcement lacked the resources to properly combat the illicit activities brewing under their noses. 

However, those that didn't want to risk breaking the law bought servants from the Auction House; they skirted the law by emphasizing the fact that they sold contracts, not people. They also weren't the only one to do so, but they had the best reputation. Nothing was a hundred percent, but a servant from the Auction House was guaranteed not to be coerced. They prided themselves on that. 

Disgusted by the knowledge that the so-called victim in the article was a slaver, he shared his realization. “That's why Jormaine was left as a warning.” To dissuade others from such practices and remind them what his ports could not be used for.

Adeleena inclined her head but remained silent, as if giving Tavion time sort out his feelings. 

The punishment was harsh, but the man's crimes were worse. Tavion had no taste for violence, but he wasn't sheltered. He'd seen men and women hurt each other for far less. 

_“Move, and I'll snap that pretty little neck, halfling. What a waste it would be.”_

He took a breath, subduing the memory threatening to rise. “So,” he forced himself to ask, “If the man deserved it, why's Jormaine being distant?”

Adeleena pursed her lips, hesitating for a moment. “This was not an act of vengeance but an act of justice. He was expected to deal with it. No matter what they print about him, let me make one thing clear to you now: he has no love for this aspect of his work. Regardless, he knew something had to be done, so he made an example of that disgraceful man. To remind Vergate what awaits those that seek to abuse our ports.”

So, according to Adeleena, Jormaine didn't enjoy killing. Except, he'd still done it—left a man, who clearly deserved punishment, suffering for hours. 

Tavion had to decide if he was okay with that, and it didn't take him long to realize he was. Maybe he would judge on a case to case basis, but Tavion had no pity for a slaver. Especially of children. If Jormaine's treatment of this criminal saved even one child…

With a frown, he realized Adeleena hadn't explained why Jormaine was being distant, but when he opened his mouth to ask again, he realized she had. Jormaine had mixed feelings about what he'd had to do. Not regret but--

Suddenly, it clicked. “Does he think we'll judge him?” 

“Not I,” she replied. 

Tavion knew he was missing something, but he couldn't figure it out. “Why would he care what I thought?” 

Adeleena raised a brow. “Apart from the fact that, generally, people don't want to frighten their lovers?” She said something quickly in Avvai under her breath. “You are not nearly as foolish as you act, Tavion, but let me help. He's afraid this will give you a reason to think he may be dangerous _to a child_.”

It took a moment for that to connect, and when it did, his eyes widened. Jormaine thought he was going to use the stipulation in the contract to take his unborn child away? Of all the idiotic--

“Where is he?” Tavion's instincts were telling him this was something he and Jormaine needed to discuss _now_. 

“Sit and eat or I won't tell you.”

Tavion made a frustrated sound but, knowing she wouldn't relent, he quickly ate a small roll for breakfast. When he was done, she told him Jormaine was with the yols, and Tavion hurried off. She made no move to follow, and though he wasn't sure how to feel about that, he tried to focus on the conversation to come. 

Jormaine was sitting on a bench with one of the larger yols at his feet. Tavion still hadn't learned all of their names (despite his best effort), but he recognized it as one of the more aggressive yols. A large white beast with piercing amber eyes. When Jormaine saw him, he sent the yol away with a quick command and watched his approach with a carefully neutral expression. 

Tavion paused when they stood a few feet apart. Nothing he'd imagined saying seemed good enough. No one had ever accused him of being crafty with words, so, in the end, he said, “I'm not afraid of you.”

Jormaine stood with inhuman quickness, wings snapping wide as he towered over him. “Then you're a fool.” 

That irked him. “Stop trying to intimidate me,” he snapped, standing his ground. “You _want_ me afraid of you? What's that help? Who's that benefit?”

Jormaine tilted his head. 

Tavion suddenly felt like an interesting insect being inspected, but he didn't back down. Everyone thought of Jormaine as lethal, but no one really knew the extent of his so-called cruelty. They whispered rumours about it on the streets. 

‘I heard he's bought more servants than anyone else.’ 

‘I've heard that once you work for him, you never work for anyone else again.’ 

Now, after living with him, Tavion could see his reputation had been carefully cultivated—though not quite exaggerated. He was demanding and domineering, but he had a kind heart. He cared for disabled creatures and people. He loved children and was as capable of being tender as he was bossy. If he needed to keep the gentler side of himself a secret from the outside world, well, Tavion didn't care because he knew the truth.  
It seemed Jormaine needed reminding of it. 

“I won't pretend to know what it's like to kill a man—”

“You think I feel for him? A man who abused children?” Jormaine sounded as baffled as he looked offended. 

Okay. Wrong approach. “That's not what I meant. I meant—” He really was no good with words, so he closed the distance between them, grabbed Jormaine's hand, and placed it on his belly. It felt silly—because he wasn't yet showing—but he held Jormaine's gaze. “I mean to say we aren't going anywhere.” 

‘We’ felt odd to say, but Jormaine needed to hear it. The way his hand relaxed told Tavion that Adeleena had correctly guessed his fear. 

“This is part of what you do,” Tavion continued. “You protect Vergate.”

The derisive sound Jormaine made in response irked him. “I've never heard such a gross oversimplification.”

“Don't dismiss me. I know you used to be Cadre. This is expected of you, isn't it?”

Jormaine stilled for a fraction of a second. “Who told you?”

“I can _read_ ,” Tavion lied, protecting Esme. “I knew what that meant. Ruling over people means deciding what to do with criminals. As long as you don't mind when I voice my disagreement about your decisions—”

That made Jormaine give a fond laugh. “As if I could stop either of you.”

“--then, I don't see the problem.”

“And what is your verdict on last night's decision?” 

Tavion scoffed. “Got what he deserved didn't he? Not every criminal deserves that, but slavers?” He shuddered under Jormaine's piercing stare, praying he didn't ask what caused the reaction. Most normal people hated slavers, right? “Can we go inside? I have something I want to talk with you both about.” 

With an intrigued look, Jormaine obliged. To Tavion's relief, Jormaine didn't ask him anything more as they walked. They found Adeleena waiting for them at the breakfast table, and as soon as she spotted them, she smiled, not quite containing her relief. Had she not expected them to come back together? He would have been insulted if not for the fact that he and Jormaine had a reputation for poor communication with each other. 

Once they were all seated, he took the plunge. He was pretty sure he already knew what he wanted, but he had some final questions. “So, say that I was your official _corpyr_ ,” he began, noting how quickly that got their attention. Unease twisted his gut, but he pushed on. “What happens when the baby is born?” That was one of his biggest concerns, and he didn't want to dwell on why. 

“You'll be part of the family, Tavion,” Adeleena said carefully. “You'll help us raise them.”

That was both what he desired and what he feared. “I don't know anything about babies,” he replied, trying not to panic at the idea.

“We'll learn together, _srelir_ ,” Adeleena said gently. “Every new parent worries about their adequacy.”

Tavion took a breath and nodded, but his nerves remained. He forced the conversation on, needing to ask the hard questions before he lost the courage. “How do I know you don't plan to just use me for more kids?”

To his credit, Jormaine didn't feign outrage at the suggestion. “I will take as many children as you will give me, but if one is all we will have, they will be more than enough.”

Tavion had planned to say so much more, but what came out next was, “I don't know how good I'll be at all this. I'm sometimes jealous of the way you are with each other.” It came out as a confession fueled by guilt. 

“Are you trying to dissuade us?” Adeleena asked, amused. 

“I dunno _what_ I’m doing.”

“Those feelings are normal,” she said. “This is your first polyamory relationship, yes?”

“My first relationship at all,” Tavion admitted, awaiting laughter. 

None came. 

Adeleena's gaze softened, her wings rustling behind her as if they itched to comfort him. “I understand why you would be jealous, but you needn't be. Love is not finite, and it's rarely the same. The way I love Jormaine is different than the way I love you, but it's no less or no better. It's simply newer.”

He was too stunned by her admission to digest her wisdom. “You...you _love_ me?” 

It was Jormaine who replied. “If we haven't made that abundantly clear—”

Tavion had heard enough. He slipped from his chair and dropped to his knees, thankful that they were having lunch in their suite. Her dress, as silky as her skin, was a blessing. It gave him easy access to her sweet core. As he slipped beneath her dress, she spread her legs, and he worshiped her with his tongue underneath the table while her husband watched. 

He took his time, teasing and savoring, to let her know how he felt about her in return. There was something absolutely sinful about being tucked beneath the table, partially under her dress, as he brought her pleasure. 

She arched into his mouth as she came, hands wrapped firmly around the back of his head. Sighing in pleasure, she said, “Will I get that every time I tell you I love you?” 

Tavion couldn't help but laugh. “Probably.”

“I look forward to that,” Jormaine purred, hauling Tavion to his feet. Without another word, he led them to the bedroom and took charge. 

Afterwards, when they were recovering from their vigorous activity, Jormaine turned to him, grasped his hand, and asked, “Will you be our _corpyr_?”

When Tavion said, “Yes,” there was no hesitation.


	17. Memories

It turned out that Bonding ceremonies were a complicated event, so although they publicly announced his acceptance of the _corpyr_ title, the actual ceremony wouldn't take place until he was about four months pregnant. He would have thought they would want to rush, but they didn't. It was almost flattering. 

“There's a lot of planning to be done,” Adeleena told him, clearly thrilled by the prospect. “I'll help you organize it all.”

He hadn't understood what there was to organize, but as soon as Adeleena began to list the details, he was grateful for the help. First, they had to pick an exact date. He let her and Jormaine decide because he, unlike them, had no other engagements. Then, they would need to send out invitations—a task Tavion didn't want anything to do with. Since the ceremony’s location was set—it would take place at the Salas estate—catering and decorations were next on the list. Finally, when all that was done, they would need to decide on raiment. 

Tavion privately began to wonder if there was a way convince them to elope. 

“There are those that _must_ be invited,” she said. “Because it would be improper not to.”

Tavion didn't care for politics, but he knew this was part of their lives. Still, before she could explain who that included and why, he quickly changed the subject, “Are there decoration taboos I should be aware of?” 

“Yes. The color scheme is very important and will be what brings it all together. Gold will represent Jormaine, and emerald will signify me. We will hire a professional to tend to the details.”

Gold and emerald were their feather colors, he noted. “What about me?” 

“By the end, you'll be wearing _our_ colors,” Adeleena replied. “However, you will come to the ceremony dressed in your own. Do you have an idea of what that might be?”

He gave it some thought. “Blue?” he suggested, gesturing to himself. 

She considered that suggestion and looked pleased. “Blue represents loyalty. A good choice.”

He hadn't known that but decided it was fitting. Loyalty was important. Especially in a marriage. 

“So, what's the ceremony entail?” he asked, trying to ease his growing dread. It sounded complicated, and although he knew he wouldn't enjoy being the center of attention, he was determined to do his best to get through it. 

Adeleena smiled encouragingly, as if sensing his nerves. “First, you'll be presented you to the guests, and then you'll join us at the front of the room. We will exchange vows, invoking the binding, and then we will eat.”

She made it sound easy.

As much as the loathed crowds, Jormaine was a public figure, and he'd known dealing with the public would be part of the package. No doubt the guests would be a mix of business associates, politicians, and influential Avvai. People that Jormaine had to maintain his reputation with. 

Tavion was determined not to mess this up. 

Not all their time was spent preparing for the ceremony. Life went on as normal. The bouts of nausea became less frequent, but they insisted he continue to take it easy. Tavion pointedly ignored their advice and took over feeding the cubs every night. More often than not, Jormaine joined him. During the day, he occasionally shadowed Adeleena while she worked, completing his studies in companionable silence.

The next break in their routine came when he was three and a half months into his pregnancy. It was time for his next appointment with the doctor. Both of them accompanied him, and because he couldn't stop thinking about his near abduction during the last visit, he was glad for it. Not to mention the thrill of flying through the air in Jormaine’s arms. Adeleena flew with them, and he glimpsed a rare sight when she began to fly circles around them, prompting Jormaine to pick up the pace. 

His lovers were _playing_.

It was a new side of them, and he loved it. He grinned at Adeleena's antics as she flew above and below, brushing past them only to turn around again. There was no doubt she was faster, and her acrobatics were breathtaking. He suddenly longed for wings of his own so he could fully partake in their game. 

All too soon they arrived at their destination, and even as they slipped back into their regal and stoic demeanors, he knew he would not soon forget the playfulness he'd just witnessed. 

They weren't forced to wait long, but while they did, Tavion couldn't help but notice that every other patient he saw was Avvai and female, many with visible baby bumps. All a reminder that he was an abnormality. He tried not to let it bother him, but he continued to silently struggle with his biology. When his pregnancy became apparent, he wondered how he would handle the stares that would no doubt come his way.

A nurse collected them and brought them to a private room, attempting to make small talk by asking routine questions—ones she likely asked of all her patients. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Any new symptoms you wish to discuss with the doctor?” 

“Any questions?”

Tavion appreciated her attempts to normalize this visit, but it wasn't helping. He told her he was fine and answered no to the rest. After he provided a blood and urine sample, she asked them, “Would you like to hear your baby's heartbeat?”

Excitement and nervousness vied within him, but before he could decide, Jormaine said, “Yes,” without hesitation. Tavion had no desire to deny him, so he nodded. 

She smiled at the enthusiasm, and soon, he was lying on the examination table, half undressed so she could press a cold, plastic scanner to his abdomen. Connected to a small device, she talked them through what the numbers on its screen meant...and then the pulsing heartbeat of their unborn child filled the air. 

For a moment, he didn't breath, afraid to miss a precious moment. Adeleena locked arms with Jormaine, clearly struggling to remain composed. Jormaine’s expression was blank save for his gilded eyes. In them, Tavion could see his swelling pride. 

Satisfied, the nurse pulled away. “A nice, strong heartbeat,” she commented, smiling. “Does anyone have any questions?” 

Tavion shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. 

After a quick glance to Jormaine and Tavion, Adeleena spoke for them all. “No. Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. ” The woman beamed, dipped her head to Jormaine and Adeleena, and left the room. 

Tavion sat up, adjusting his clothes to cover himself, and stood. All the while, the baby’s heartbeat echoed in his mind. He must have looked troubled because Adeleena stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm comforting. He jerked his gaze to her and Jormaine, a look of panicked realization on his face. “We're having a baby.”

He did not find Jormaine’s resounding laughter amusing.

Jormaine and Adeleena spoiled him for the remainder of the day, and their happiness was so genuine that Tavion didn't have the heart to share how scared he was. As if words could convey how terrifying it was to know he was growing another person inside of him. He'd known he was pregnant, but hearing a second heartbeat within his body… It was awe-inspiring as it was frightening. Still, for the first time, he felt a connection to the child growing within him—new but infinite. 

 

Tavion spent the majority of the next day catching up on his studies, but after a few hours, fatigue forced him to take a break. The doctors had advised him to pay attention to his body's needs, so he retired to his suite for a nap. Though he spent nights in Jormaine and Adeleena's bedroom, he slept in his suite during the daytime (if he needed to rest). 

A knock at his bedroom door woke him from a deep sleep. He must have been more tired than he'd realized. “Come in.”

Esme entered, hesitation evident. “ _Corpyr_ , you have a call.”

It took him a moment to process what she said because he couldn't fathom who would be calling him. Apart from his mother, whom he had no desire to speak with, he could think of no one. Rather than ask her who it was, he got out of bed to handle it. Esme wasn't his secretary, and he wouldn't treat her like one.

She showed him to the computer in the next room. The section of the program that would usually show a video of the caller was blank, but he didn't care. That meant he wouldn't be obligated to share video of himself with someone he might not know.

He took a moment to study the program on the screen because he couldn't remember the last time he had made or received a call. His parents hadn't owned a computer, and although school taught them, he had limited practice. 

“Press this when you're ready to speak.” Esme gestured to an icon on the screen. 

He thanked her, and after she departed, he clicked it, figuring he was as ready as he'd ever be. “Hello?” 

"Hello? Am I speaking to the son of Eiza Talmadge?" 

Tavion tried to ignore the knot of dread in his chest. "Yeah. Why?" 

"I'm afraid this is a matter best discussed in person," the woman said hesitantly. "You are her next of kin, correct?" 

He wanted to ask why she hadn't called his father, but if his mother was in trouble, his father was the worst person to call. “Yes.” 

“Are you available to come to Xindar's Emergency Center immediately?” 

Tavion had no idea where that particular hospital was, but his mind began to imagine the worst case scenario—his father had killed or seriously wounded his mother. “Yes. What's the address?” 

She raffled it off. He thanked her and hung up. Running on autopilot, his only defense against the onslaught of emotions threatening to bring him to his knees, he found Esme and informed her that he needed to get to Xindar Hospital. Though he tried not to, Tavion imagined the state he might find his mother in when he arrived. It brought back too many memories, too many images. How many days had he returned home only to find his mother with a black eye, split lip, or fresh bruises? 

Part of him, as it always did, imagined for a moment that _this_ was going to be the time he managed to convince her to leave. That _this_ time was different. He dismissed the thought as soon as it appeared, too jaded to hope she might see reason where his father was concerned. No matter what he did, she would never leave him, and he would never forget the utter disappointment he'd felt the day he realized that. 

After spending a night in the hospital getting his broken arm fixed—a birthday gift from his father—he'd been so convinced his mother would take him somewhere safe upon being released. When she merely took him home instead—well, the betrayal he'd felt hurt far worse than a broken arm ever could. 

Tavion took a breath, trying to steady his nerves and banish old memories. “Esme, please tell Adeleena where I've gone, but wait a little before you do.” 

Jormaine was at work for a while longer, but Adeleena was home. Tavion knew that if he told her what was going on, she would offer to go. As much as he needed the support, this was family business. He'd learned at a young age that events like this were to be kept secret, and that lesson had been a painful one. 

Tavion had no intention of letting Adeleena or Jormaine learn his shameful family secrets. 

No one dared stop him as he walked the lengthy path down to the front gate. His presence was not a normal occurrence here, so it caught the attention of the man on duty—an large Avvai man with black and red-accented wings. He was built more like an enforcer than a gatekeeper, but maybe that was the point. Who was going to try to force their way in with such a beast of a man on duty? 

He greeted Tavion with a deep bow as soon as he noticed him, making the sword at his hip rattle in its sheath. “ _Corpyr_. How may I be of service?” 

Tavion was never going to become accustomed to being addressed with subservience, but today it suited his needs. “I need to go somewhere. How would I go about doing that?” He'd never left the Salas home by himself, but no one said he wasn't allowed to. And since he wasn't running away, he figured the Auction House's magically binding contract wouldn't object. 

The gatekeeper didn't even blink. “I will call a vehicle for you, _Corpyr_.”

That was easy. “Thank you. And your name is…?”

“Nh'sli.” 

Tavion nodded and fell silent while Nh'sli called for a ride, fleetingly wishing he wasn't so bad at small talk. He didn't want the servants and guards to think he didn't appreciate them, but he disliked mindless chatting. 

When the vehicle arrived, Nh'sli opened the door for him and bid him safe travels. Tavion thanked him and gave the driver—a man with a curtain of black hair that obscured most of his face from sight—his destination. His mind was too scattered for him to acquaint himself with the man, so he looked out the window and watched the scenery pass by, envisioning every possible scenario that may have brought his mother to the hospital. It was foolish of him to hope his father might not be the reason, but that didn't stop him. 

He watched the greenery slowly fade, replaced by more and more metal and concrete as they headed towards downtown Vergate. It was as dingy and dirty as every city he'd read about. One word in particular came to mind whenever he was downtown. 

Grey. 

Nearly the entirety of downtown was various shades of grey. The buildings, the streets, the structures. There was colorful graffiti and neon colored lights in storefronts, of course, but the majority of the city's color came from the many people of various races that hurried from place to place, each busy with their own lives. No skin tone was uncommon here: purple, green, black, brown, beige, blue—Vergate had them all.

Vergate also had plenty of noise. Tavion hadn't realized how much he despised it until now. Life with the Salases was quiet, and he certainly didn't miss the cacophony of the city. 

They arrived at the hospital quicker than he anticipated, and with the help of the hospital's signs, the driver dropped him off at the front and left to park, saying he would await further instructions. 

Tavion was thankful to have arrived so quickly, but he dreaded what would come next. He'd run away to escape this family drama—but he couldn't very well abandon his mother when it was within his power to help. 

Figuring he was as ready as he'd ever be, he headed to the front doors, but, to his irritation, a maintenance worker was washing their glass exteriors. Wasn't late afternoon the most inconvenient time for this task? Simmering with irritation, he was about to snap at the young man, but the man finally noticed Tavion and gave him an apologetic look. 

“Doors are closed. The sensor isn't working,” he said apologetically. 

Fine. Tavion knew that wasn't his fault, so he contained his misplaced anger. “Which entrance should I use for the emergency center?” He'd never been to this hospital because it wasn't close to where his parents lived. How had his mother ended up here exactly?

The boy smiled and pointed around the west side of the building. “That way, sir.”

Tavion thanked him and followed the floral-decorated path until he spotted a single door marked as the West Entrance. From there, he figured he could ask around and find the emergency center or the main desk. Either way, he would soon have answers. 

If this was his father's doing, and if he could convince his mother to leave, maybe the Salases wouldn't mind her as a temporary guest? 

_Stop it. She'll never agree to lea—_

Tavion let out an undignified sound as two sets of hands seized him by the arms and forced him face-first into the wall just inside the doorway. Stunned though he was, he reacted on instinct. He'd been in his fair share of fights, and he fought viciously in each one: kicking, biting, and scratching. Even when jumped by boys his peers in school, Tavion had alway fought as if it could be his last. He'd been labeled troubled, dangerous, and wild by students and teachers alike because none of them understood. They hadn't grown up in his neighborhood where fights only ended when one opponent was sent to the hospital. To them, beating your peer unconscious was barbaric. To him, it was survival. 

He caught one of his opponent's in the chest with his elbow, but as that one released him, the other slammed his head into the wall. Hard. Stars exploded behind his eyelids, and darkness crept at the edge of his vision. He fell to his knees, clutching his head with one hand, and snarled when his opponents tried to wrench his arms behind his back. Still fueled by adrenaline and self-preservation, he jerked free and turned, diving at a pair of legs and taking him to the ground. 

That seemed to catch his foe off guard. As if neither of them were prepared for him to fight back. 

The other man was bigger, but Tavion had surprise on his side. He used the split second it granted him to punch the assailant in the face. Punching hurt, but he was used to it. He landed a few more blows—hands slick with warm blood—before a forceful kick to the ribs sent him tumbling, leaving him gasping on the tiled floor. A spike of fear for the child he carried had him wrapping his arms around his belly. The foe that had kicked him advanced while Tavion struggled for breath, and he could do nothing but watch. He could hardly breathe, let alone resist as the man forced him onto his stomach, wrestled his arms behind his back, and bound him. A gag quickly followed, but it hadn't occurred to Tavion to call for help. Years on the streets had ingrained into him the knowledge that he had to take care of himself; the callousness of others knew no bounds. How many had walked by while he starved, while he fled for his life from pursuers? No one helped then, so why would they help now?

The man he'd been punching stood on shaky feat, spat, and wiped the blood from his eyes. Tavion didn't need to understand his language to know that the words he snarled were a threat or an insult. Likely both. 

Now that he had a moment to look at them, he recognized them for what they were. Grey skin, protruding ridges above their eyes, sharp nails, and short but pointed tails. Khreol. The mercenary race that had, according to his mother, slaughtered most of their kind. Except he wasn't dead, so whoever had hired them likely wanted him alive. He shuddered at the implication, fearing he knew where this kidnapping might be headed.

The blooded Khreol kicked him in the side, and he was to busy hissing in pain to decipher what language the other one yelled at him in. Before he could recover, he was yanked to his knees and blindfolded, and then they were moving. He was half-carried, half-dragged back out of the door he'd just walked through. He fought, but they didn't even seemed to notice his efforts. Then, he was loaded into a vehicle. As soon as he realized what was happening, he struggled more, but a third pair of arms helped to pull him in. 

The sound of a vehicle door slamming preceded his gag being pulled aside so a pill could he shoved down his throat. He sputtered and choked, thrashing to break free so he could spit it out...until a knife at his throat gave him pause. 

“Take the pill, _oseja_ ,” a voice with a thick accent growled threateningly. 

Everything went still and silent, as if they were waiting for him to comply. 

They weren't going to kill him. Not after going through all this trouble to catch him. So, Tavion called their bluff and spat out the pill, hoping it landed in the man's face. 

A sigh. Then, hands pried his mouth open, and, this time, they shoved the pill into the back of his throat. He choked, and when he couldn't spit it out, he had no choice but to swallow.

Furious, he spit at them, cursed, and struggled to get free, but they ignored him. He kicked and fought until a sudden drowsiness weighed down his limbs and fogged his mind. 

Tavion cursed them one more time before falling unconscious.


	18. Sold

He awoke gradually, falling in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity. Urgency beckoned him. He knew something was very wrong, but drugs pulled him under each time he attempted to wake. Grogginess made his limbs and eyelids uncooperative. His heart pounded because he didn’t recognize where he was or why he was there. It took all of his energy to roll onto his side and longer still for whatever they'd given him to began wearing off. 

Bone-chilling cold greeted him first. The floor was cold and so hard that his joints ached from sleeping on it. Darkness was next. A single light source (in what appeared to be the middle of the large, cluttered warehouse) enabled him to see shadows when he finally managed to open his eyes long enough to catalogue his surroundings. Metal bars obscured his vision of the rest of the room, and Tavion realized rather quickly that he was in a cage. One tall enough for him to stand in, but a cage nonetheless. 

Dread pooled in his gut when, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw his cage wasn't the only one in the warehouse. Dozens of men and women sat, stood, and laid in cages of their own. No one spoke. The only sound Tavion could hear was the sobs of a young woman he couldn’t see. He recognized some of the races of the prisoners, but there were others he'd never encountered. _Exotics_ , his mind supplied. Tavion remembered his mother saying rarities sold better, and nausea churned in his gut. 

He really didn't need to ask to know what was going on. The mercenaries had apparently sold him to slavers, but whether they were _hired_ by those slavers was another matter. From what he understood, slavers preferred to spend as little money as possible in order to maximize profits. Hiring professionals sounded expensive, but maybe they felt it had been worth it in this case? It wasn't impossible, just improbable. If the slavers hadn't hired the Khreol, then who had? 

Pondering the unknowns kept him from panicking, but the distraction wouldn't last. He had no means to play detective, so he turned his thoughts to how he would escape. Talk to his captors? He could guess how that would go, but at least it would give him an idea of who they were.

Tavion rubbed his wrist. When he did, his hand met bare flesh—no trace of the golden bangle that should have been there. He quickly checked the matching collar that should have been around his neck, but that was gone as well. Taken. Sold maybe. What had first been a sign of his subjugation by the Salases had become a symbol of how far he’d come. To have them _taken_ \--anger hardly covered it. 

He stood and approached the door of the cell. The chance it had been left unlocked was low, but he had to try _something_. He raised a hand cautiously, as if afraid the bars might bite, but nothing happened when he touched them. Unfortunately, that was the only good news. The door was double locked, meant to keep in species far stronger than his kind. 

Shivering, he sat down, but he refused to accept defeat. There were always choices, and sometimes the best one was to bide your time. If he fought too much, if he gave them a reason to think he was unruly, they would never let their guard down around him. He needed his captors, whoever they were, to think he was compliant. Then, one day, they would make a mistake, and he’d be able to escape. 

And he _would_ escape, he told himself. He had to. This was the fate he'd always feared. He'd been cornered once before by a man he suspected to be a slaver, and he’d barely escaped. That incident, being molested while the man whispered promises of a painful future, had driven him to sell himself at the Auction House. Why let them take what he could sell for himself? 

Wrapping his arms around his legs for warmth, he settled in to wait.

 

Time passed. The room warehouse had no windows, and with nothing to do but stare at the walls, seconds felt like torturous hours. He debated trying to talk to the other prisoners but decided against it. None of them had so much as looked at him, and they averted their eyes when he tried to catch their gazes. Judging by their reactions, he had to assume that conversation among the slaves was not encouraged. 

A door screeched open, and raised voice broke through the minotiny. An angry feminine voice that was getting closer. He stood up as a woman approached his cage, and his brows furrowed when he recognized the outline of wings. Even in the dark, he could see they were a soft shade of pink—similar to Zadra Acosta. Her attire was upper-class. Pristine, delicate, and custom made. She looked so out of place in this dreary, dark room, but maybe that was the point. Who would suspect her? Her sharp face gave her a harsh beauty, and her grey eyes were as cold as a stormy night. 

This woman, whoever she was, was Avvai aristocracy. Tavion was almost nearly certain of that. The two men she was ranting at were _not_ , but Tavion paid them little mind when he realized she was ranting in Avvai. He focused, listening in on the conversation, and managed to make out some of it. 

“...Killing him. If…caught…Jormaine Salas will do?”

She was afraid of the repercussions from Jormaine? Hoping he’d understood the gist of it, he took a risk and said, “You’re right. Jormaine _won't_ be happy with you when he finds out about this. So how about you let me go, and I can tell him you helped rescue me me instead?” 

The woman stiffened as soon as he spoke and slowly turned, giving him a disdainful look. Her wings fanned out as she inspected him. “Of _course_ he taught his pet to speak,” she sneered. “Still your tongue, slave, or I'll have it removed. I'm not in the habit of selling pleasure slaves that are damaged, but I'll make an exception for you.”

Tavion glared, but he didn’t relent. He couldn’t. She was clearly afraid of Jormaine, and this could be his only chance to talk his way free. “Do you think he'll let you live when he finds out you kidnapped me? He'll—” 

She laughed and waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I had no part in that. You were given to one of my men by a Khreol.”

“Then who hired _them_?” he challenged her. He had no reason to believe it wasn’t her, but why not play along? Maybe she had valuable information.

She scoffed as if he’d asked a ridiculous question. “Perhaps it was his _wife_? Or did you think a true _Liry_ would allow her husband to make someone like _you_ a _corpyr_? She may be unworthy of her title, but even _she_ must have standards.”

Tavion's gut instinct denied her suggestion. “Adeleena would never do that,” he insisted, but doubt festered. He tried to pay it no mind. This woman clearly hated Adeleena. Why should he believe her opinion? 

She didn’t acknowledge his response. “Regardless of who, someone wanted you gone, and now I'm an unwitting accomplice. But no matter. You'll fetch a good price. Lum'a are so hard to find, but _oseja_? Rarer than an honest man. They sell best of all.” She smiled unkindly. “I'll make more than enough for this to be worth my while.”

Tavion had no idea what _oseja_ meant, but he didn't give up. “Jormaine won't stop searching for me.”

“You think too highly of yourself.”

“I'm carrying his child!” Tavion snapped, desperate to make her see he was more trouble than he was worth. How could she not know Jormaine would rain fury upon her for taking away his unborn child? 

That gave her pause. Her face softened with false sympathy. “Oh, how he has you fooled,” she said with mock sweetness. “That thing you're carrying has no significance to him. If Jormaine Salas brought an _oseja_ into his home, it could only be because his wife was having difficulty conceiving. Whatever lies he fed you, I can assure you that once you helped his wife conceive, you became useless.”

Tavion tried not to react, but it was hard. There was so much to process. No one was supposed to know about Adeleena's infertility, so how had this woman so casually guessed that fact? What did she mean Tavion had helped her conceive? She wasn't pregnant. She was infertile. Nothing she said made sense. It was so wrong, in fact, that he laughed. “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

The sickly sweet smile on her face reached her eyes, promising unpleasantness. “Poor _oseja_ ,” she cooed. “Whoever sheltered you did you a disservice, but fear not. I have no doubts your new master will fix that.”

He glared at her back as she turned and strolled out of the room, her men following her like loyal yols.

 

Despite her threat, there was no new master. At least not right away. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since her visit. Tavion used mealtime as a measure of time, and so far he (and the other prisoners) had been fed five times. Always the same meal. A brown colored stew of grains, chewy meat, and cheap vegetables. The only problem was that he had no idea if they were fed twice a day or once a day, but if he judged by the way his stomach rumbled, once a day was accurate. He'd eaten less (and worse) food, so his hunger hardly registered. It was the return of the nausea that that kept him occupied. Without his meds, he’d begun throwing up after each meal. This time, however, no one cared, and the stench only aggravated his stomach further. 

Between bouts of nausea, unanswered questions hounded him. Who had him kidnapped? Why? Did Adeleena and Jormaine think he ran away? Were they looking for him? 

_They’re looking. They have to be._

That's what he told himself each time the slavers came, sometimes bringing prisoners and sometimes taking them away. Wherever they went, they never came back. Dead or sold, Tavion figured, and he wasn't sure which was worse. 

He wrapped a hand protectively around his belly and thought of his mother who said she'd been born a slave. Where was she right now? Was she alright or had her hospitalization been a lie to draw him out? 

As he fell asleep after his seventh meal, he dreamed of his son giggling happily in Jormaine's arms. 

 

The sound of the warehouse door opening woke him—the screech of metal scraping concrete. He tried not to react. Tavion knew what that sound meant. Slaves were being taken in or out, and he had no interest in looking upon the broken, terrified faces of more prisoners that he couldn’t help.

Four sets of footsteps. 

Tavion listened as they walked, and fear raced down his spine when he realized they were walking in his direction. That didn't mean anything. His cage wasn't the only one, but when steps stopped near him, he felt ill with dread. Though he stiffened, he otherwise didn’t move or turn to face them. 

“Doesn't look like much,” a voice commented, almost amused. 

“I can assure you he is a genuine _oseja_ ,” the woman, the head slaver, said. 

“How much?” a familiar voice asked, shocking Tavion into sitting up. 

_Moro._

“You're not very good at this, are you?” the unfamiliar man commented wryly. “Never let the seller know how much you the product. You lose all leverage to negotiate.”

Moro ignored the unsolicited advice. “Name your price.”

The other man gave a disappointed sigh and muttered something in a language Tavion didn't recognize. 

“Let's discuss this in my office, gentlemen,” the woman replied, perfectly professional. 

He waited until they’d departed before looking in their direction. He recognized Moro. It was the other man he wanted to see. Tall. Avvai. His hair color, like his wings, was impossible to distinguish in this lighting, but it was of medium length. As Tavion stared, the man glanced over his shoulder, caught his gaze, and winked. 

Tavion startled but said nothing. Neither did the man. He simply looked away and continued following the woman, commenting loudly on how drearly the whole place was. Then, they were gone. 

Moro. This couldn’t be good. It was possible Jormaine had sent him to rescue him, but Tavion’s gut instinct said that wasn’t likely. He didn't trust Moro, but more importantly was the fact that Jormaine didn’t trust him. Still, even if Moro wasn’t here to rescue him, Jormaine’s pre-existing suspicions might lead him to investigate him for Tavion's disappearance. If he was bought by Moro, maybe Jormaine would find him? He clung to that hope instead of wondering why Moro wanted him or wondering if the other man might outbid him. 

There was no good outcome. Only a less awful one. Too bad Tavion wasn’t sure which master would be worse. 

There was nothing to do until they returned. Though too anxious to sleep, he curled up on the metal floor and tried to rest. 

When the warehouse door opened sometime later, Tavion wasn’t surprised when the footsteps that followed stopped in front of his cage. 

“On your knees. Face away from the door.” 

He didn’t need to look to know the order was for him, and he complied wordlessly. The sound of his cage door being opened filled him with the urge to try to escape, but he held back. This wasn’t the time. 

Footsteps were the only warning he had before someone grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back. He was hauled to his feet and, to his surprise, taken out of the cell. Was this the chance he’d been waiting for? That thought was short-lived when he saw that Moro, the slaver woman, and another man were waiting. 

The handler paused, holding him in place and awaiting directions. 

“Well?” the woman prompted.

The old man peered at Tavion. “Can’t make my assessment ‘till I see the whole product, now can I?”

“Do whatever you need, Gavier,” Moro insisted. 

Gavier, however, looked to the woman for permission. 

She gestured for him to get on with it, and he used his spindly hands to put on a pair of black gloves. “Strip it.” 

_It?_ Were they talking about _him?_

Apparently they were because his arms were lifted, and his shirt was roughly pulled off over his head. Then, hands reached for his pants. Tavion’s instinct was to fight and not doing so was difficult. Only the clinical look in the man’s eyes—like he was viewing property—kept Tavion from resisting. This was humiliating, yes, but at least he knew the intent wasn’t sexual. That was no comfort to his dignity or to his skin when it was bared to the cold air of the warehouse. He shivered and watched as the old man approached. 

Without knowing what the man was looking for, Tavion had no time to prepare for the hand that reached out to cup him between the legs. He stiffened at the unwanted contact and would have struggled if not for the strong hands holding him in place—one locked around his wrists, keeping his arms behind his back, and the other gripping the nape of his neck. 

The indignity chafed his pride. 

“Spread your legs, slave,” Gavier said. 

It took Tavion a moment to realize that they were all just waiting for him to obey. He was _not_ a slave, and he longed to teach them that—but he knew how easily they could force him to obey. All it would take was a simple threat because he'd given the slavers ammunition to use against him. Pain he could endure, but he would not risk his child. Humiliation was nothing compared to that. So, with great reluctant, he did as he was told. 

Gavier released his hold and knelt so uncomfortably close to Tavion’s nether region that he squirmed. That gloved hand reached out and stroked his perineum, making Tavion hiss at the unwelcome, intrusive sensation. 

Thankfully, Gavier stood, ending the invasive physical, and turned to Moro as he discarded the gloves. 

“It has no outer testes, which is what we would expect in _oseja_. That makes space for the _osejaline_ , where the baby comes out of the womb. This one’s intact. Unused.” 

Being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room was the least of his worries. This man seemed familiar with his kind—more familiar than Tavion was. He’d never really given thought to not having testes because not every race was the same when it came to their gender characteristics. He’d assumed it was normal for Lum'a men. Apparently it made him something else entirely. 

_Oseja._

That could only be the name for his freakish nature, but didn’t _all_ Lum'a men have the ability to carry children? Jormaine seemed to think so, but Jormaine wasn’t Lum'a. He wasn’t the authority on the subject. So, what had his mother said? He tried to remember if she’d ever told him directly that all Lum'a men had wombs, but he couldn’t be sure. Was this just another secret she’d kept from him all under the guise of keeping him safe? 

_What in the stars is an osejaline?_

Moro’s looked pleased, and Tavion didn't like the excitement in his eyes. “Thank you.” 

The old man held out his palm, smiling only when Moro handed him a white envelope. “My pleasure.” 

He departed as the woman turned to Moro. “If you’re satisfied, we can conclude our business with the matter of your payment.” 

“I’m very satisfied,” Moro said. “Thank you for indulging my caution. I meant no disrespect.”

“Of course.” The woman looked to the man holding Tavion. “Prepare the slave for transport.” 

As the man began to drag him in a new direction, Tavion knew this was his only chance to escape before Moro got his hands on him. Having his _reproductive organs_ inspected didn’t foreshadow good intentions, so as soon as the guard dragged him out of sight, he made his move. 

He was weakened from his imprisonment, but brute strength had never been his method of fighting. Almost all of his past opponents had been larger than him, and this was no different. 

Tavion dropped all of his weight to the ground, going limp. It caught the man off guard, but he managed to hold onto one of Tavion’s wrists like a vice. Adrenaline fueled, Tavion turned to him, grabbed one of his fingers, and pried it backwards—bending the joints and muscles in a direction they were never meant to go. The move was designed to force someone to relinquish their hold, and, with a howl of pain, that's exactly what the man did. Without any idea of where he was or how to escape the building, Tavion ran blindly, desperate for a way out.


	19. Oseja

Tavion groaned at the familiar sensation of waking up after being sedated. He was getting very tired of it. The nausea and grogginess lingered, making recalling what had happened take longer. As his senses slowly returned, so did the aches from each and every injury he'd acquired during this whole ordeal. His heart pounded as he tried to assess where he was and how he'd gotten there. 

He’d been caught. That much was obvious, but it took time for him to recall the details. Unsurprisingly, the guard’s howl of pain had drawn attention, and while Tavion wasted precious seconds trying to find a way out of the building, his pursuers had caught up to him. Knowing he wouldn’t get another chance to escape soon (if at all), he’d fought, but he was no match for two Avvai men. He’d drawn blood, but that had given him little satisfaction when he was quickly restrained and drugged. 

Everything after that was hazy. Bits and pieces came to him like incoherent puzzle pieces, but he remembered Moro or, rather, his voice. 

As Tavion's mind cleared, he realized that he was nude. A blanket covered him, but not knowing what had happened while he was naked was disturbing. At least, Tavion mused, there was no pain to suggest someone had taken advantage of him—a very real concern for someone in his predicament. 

_Slave_ , his mind whispered, his nightmare come true. 

When he sat up, he was met with an alarming, sharp cramping in his abdomen. He pushed past the pain, certain it was just from his treatment at the hands of his previous (or perhaps current) captors. Astonishingly, when he tried to stand, he found that he wasn't bound. A rush of adrenaline, spiked with hope, had him stumbling away from the bed of furs he’d been lying on and scanning the room—simultaneously looking for dangers and a way out. 

Tavion found he wasn't in a room at all; it was a hut—small but not crowded. There was a door across the way, covered by a curtain of wooden beads from which natural light poured through. Everything from the floor to the ceiling appeared to be made of wood. It was, in one word, primitive, but he was relieved to see the sink across the room had plumbing. Plumbing meant running water, and running water was a good sign. 

Not that Tavion intended to stay long enough for that to be a concern. 

He listened but heard no noise or voices beyond the door. Dare he risk seeing what awaited him on the other side? 

As if on cue, the beaded curtain rustled and was pulled aside, and then an ivory-blue skinned woman entered the hut. It took Tavion only a millisecond to recognize her as Lum'a—the inky, tattoo-like markings on her bare arms unmistakable. Three distinct bands had been tattooed onto her left wrist, but Tavion hadn't a clue what that might mean. She had thick, dark blue hair that was cut short on the sides of her head. The front was styled to the left, partially covering that side of her face, and the back cascaded down her shoulders. She wore a long, flowing tunic with sleeves that hung loosely. It was mauve colored, and she wore a matching scarf-like raiment that was drawn over her shoulders and down her chest. 

The sight of his own kind was certainly less intimidating than waking as a prisoner to Moro, he decided, but it didn’t exactly put him at ease. A stranger was a stranger, and it didn’t help that he had no recollection of arriving here. 

Suddenly, he had a thousand more questions. but then he remembered that he was nude and quickly scrambled to cover himself with a fur. 

The woman fought a smile, violet eyes bright with amusement. “You speak the Common tongue of Rinrade?” she asked with an accent he’d never heard before.

Rinrade was the planet Vergate was on. Tavion hadn’t expected someone so exotic to speak his language, and he was almost too stunned to form a swift reply. “Yeah.” Then, as an afterthought, he asked, “Where am I?”

“Safe,” she replied, and Tavion couldn't tell if she'd misunderstood the question or not. “Your name is Tavion?” 

She already knew more about him than he did about her. “Yeah. Who're you?” 

“I am Jamala vi Kyrton, First to Chief Kyrton,” she said with formally. 

Did she expect him to understand the significance of any of that? Uninterested in asking for clarity there was so much more he needed to know, Tavion focused his questions elsewhere. “How did I get here?”

She knelt with grace at the short, wooden table in the middle of the hut. “Join me.” 

He hesitated at first, but when she remained silent, he gave in. Ignoring the protest of his aching body, he knelt, still using a pelt to protect his modesty. 

She smiled approvingly. “The Staren, Moro, works for Chief Kyrton. He buys Lum'a when he finds them in slave markets and brings them to Chief Kyrton.” 

Of everything she could have said, that was the last thing he expected to hear. “Why?” 

“That is not your concern.”

Tavion didn't appreciate being told what to worry about. “Then what _should_ I be concerned about?” he retorted. 

“Recovering,” she replied, stressing the word. “Our shaman has tended to you, but the mind is not as easy to heal as the body.” Despite her regal air, her gaze softened with sympathy that Tavion didn't want. “The galaxy is not kind to Lum'a, especially women and oseja, but here you are safe.”

A dozen replies ran through his head—varying from “my mind is fine” to “none of that gives you the right to kidnap me.” Except, maybe he was being too harsh on her and her people. _They_ hadn't kidnapped him, right? In fact, if they were telling the truth, Moro had saved him on their behalf. If he hadn't—if someone else had gotten ahold of him—

He didn't have to think hard to imagine where he would have ended up. 

Not wishing to dwell on that, he said, “I'm fine, apart from some bruising.” The cramps appeared to have subsided, thankfully. “So, once I'm healed, I can leave?” 

Jamala stared impassively. “ _Oseja_ and women do not leave.” 

Tavion had a sinking feeling he fell under the category of _oseja_. Panic clawed at his insides. This was all a misunderstanding. He had to get home. “Can I talk to Kyrton?” 

Jamala gave him a disapproving look. “Not with the manners of an infant. First, you must learn our ways.”

Tavion forced himself to take a breath. He didn’t have time to learn a new culture. He had to get back to Vergate. “I don't need to learn manners. I _need_ to talk to the chief so I can go home.”

Empathy transformed her demeanor until she was like a benevolent mother standing before a confused child. “You _are_ home, Tavion. You belong here.”

“No,” he insisted harshly, trying and failing to remain calm. “No, I'm not. My _home_ is with the Salases.”

She was unrelenting. “Your home is with your people. Not with outsiders. You will not be leaving.”

Tavion tensed and surged to his feet in outrage. “So, I’m a prisoner? How is this any better than being a slave?”

“Ah, the dramatics of the youth,” Jamala commented, standing slowly to face him. “In time, you will thank us.”

 _I doubt it,_ he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. His only hope was to try to negotiate with the chief, but to do that he had to meet him. “So, I learn your culture, then I can speak to the chief?” 

“That should not be your priority,” Jamala replied. “Three days hence, the Contest of Vanos will take place. We will feast to celebrate your arrival, and then the men who desire to do so will compete for you. This will determine your mate, and he will be your focus. He will protect you, shelter you, and provide for you. In return, you will honor him, be dutiful, and bear him strong children.”

_What._

_On._

_Rinrade._

Furious, Tavion spat at her feet to let her know exactly what he thought of _that plan_ , and even when she called in reinforcements—two Lum'a men with muscled torsos openly on display—he didn’t regret it. They forced him to comply, first ensuring he let Jamala check his various bruises and lacerations. Then, they made him put on clothes “befitting an _oseja_ ”—a single garment, open at the bottom like a _dress_. Tavion tried to think of it as a long tunic because if he didn’t, he was certain he’d die of mortification. 

_By the stars, you were inspected like livestock before being sold, but wearing a dress is too much for you?_

Looking quite satisfied, Jamala called in a woman who entered carrying a tray of food and a cup of steaming liquid. “This is Dulani _vi_ Kyrton,” she said. “Ze will help you assimilate and prepare.” Then, she turned and left. The men followed after her, leaving him alone with Dulani.

Tavion couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d been beaten, kidnapped, humiliated, drugged, _rescued_ , and somehow he was still a prisoner. A prisoner to his own kind! Tavion decided then and there that he had the worst luck. 

Taking a breath, he finally turned his glare upon the only other occupant in the room and realized, with no small amount of shame, that Dulani was no woman. His androgynous shape and feminine clothing—quite like what Tavion was wearing—made him leap to the wrong conclusion. His midnight blue hair was long and braided, but it was the dark scar around his neck that really caught Tavion’s attention. 

“This is for you,” Dulani said lamely, kneeling down and placing the tray on the table. As he did so, Tavion caught sight of the tattoo encircling his wrist—similar to Jamala’s. 

Then, he looked at the plate. He could tell the charred chunk was meat, but he didn't recognize the type of vegetables that accompanied it. The cramping in his gut returned, making him nauseous, so he focused on the foreign drink. Kneeling at the table, he took the cup in his hands and sniffed, catching a mild floral scent. He didn't think it was poisoned but wasn't in a trusting mood, so he put it aside and studied Dulani. He wondered why Dulani, who looked to be only a few years older than him, had been sent to help him transition to the Lum'a culture. 

Seeing no reason not to ask what was on his mind, he said, “So, what earned you this honor?” 

Dulani blinked. 

“Of being my handler,” he elaborated wryly. 

Realization dawned. “It's my duty as Chief Kyrton's _oseja_ to guide other _oseja_ through the arrival process here.”

 _Chief Kyrton's oseja._ Like property. So, did that mean the chief had both Dulani and Jamala as lovers? Was that a normal practice around here? He had a more pressing question to ask, so he put that on the back burner. “What does _oseja_ mean?” He had a guess but having a clear answer would be best. 

“Uh—” 

Tavion raised his brows. Apparently that very logical question wasn't what Dulani had expected. “Are you new at this?” 

Dulani startled, flushed, but then straightened up. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he replied with a hint of heat. “You're the first _oseja_ that's been brought to Hafn in—well, since I arrived.” 

Hafn. Was that the name of this place? “How long ago was that?” 

“A little more than a year ago. There aren't many of us left, and those that remain are scattered across the galaxy. Mostly, yanno, unwillingly.”

Tavion's flickered to the scar on Dilani's neck but refused to let sympathy make him pliant. “You're from Vergate.” Not a question but a suspicion. He had the same dialect and no accent Tavion could detect. 

“Yeah,” Dulani replied but offered no further personal information. “Anyway, _oseja_ is the third gender of Lum'a. Male, female, _oseja_.”

Three genders. Before Tavion could process that, another sharp cramp made him wince—as if a reminder of what made him different. When the pain subsided, he said, “We're _oseja_ because we aren't women, but we have wombs.” An attempt to confirm what it meant and what he was. 

Dulani grinned at that description. “Yeah, basically. There’s more to it than that obviously.” 

The flush in Dulani’s cheeks told Tavion that he wasn’t eager to elaborate.

“Oh,” Dulani said. “Before I forget, most _oseja_ here prefer the ze/zir/zirs pronouns. Instead of they/them/theirs.”

Tavion stewed on that information, making sure he’d understood. He wasn’t familiar with third gender or gender neutral pronouns. “Do _you_?” he asked after a long silence. 

Dulani’s eyes narrowed, “Yeah. Is that gonna be a problem?" 

Of all his concerns right now, being offended by pronouns wasn't even on his radar. “Of course not.”

Ze deflated. “Sorry.”

Tavion wondered why Dulani was so defensive over what was apparently quite normal around here. Perhaps ze had been bullied in Vergate? None of that mattered, however, so he asked a more relevant question. “Did Moro bring you here?” As soon as Dulani nodded, Tavion pressed on. “Why does he do it? Help Lum'a?” 

Unlike Jamala, Dulani didn't hesitate to answer. “His _oseja_ was Chief Kyrton’s only sibling. Moro wished for zir to live with him off planet, but women and oseja are not permitted to leave. This was the deal he struck with the Chief: zir freedom to leave in exchange for a lifelong alliance.”

Why would Moro agree to such a thing? It had to be costly. The price he’d paid for Tavion, only to give him away— It had to be catastrophic. 

Then, it dawned on him that if the chief had been willing to make such a deal with Moro, he might be willing to do the same with Jormaine who had considerably more wealth and influence. Tavion might have a way out of this after all, and his heart soared with hope. 

“Moro said his husband died,” Tavion commented, keeping his plan to himself. To execute it, he had to meet with the chief, and before he could do that, he had to get through his introduction process. 

Dulani nodded grimly. “During childbirth. They had a son, so Chief Kyrton said he could remain with his father.”

According to the Salases, Moro's son wasn't Lum'a, but it was far more likely he simply didn't _look_ Lum'a. Not all hybrids looked the same. Tavion favored his mother when it came to looks. 

“So—” Tavion gasped as a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. 

A hand steadied him, and he realized that he'd shot to his feet. 

“What's wrong?” Dulani asked. 

“I don't know,” he replied through gritted teeth, waiting for the cramps to subside. This time, they didn't. They seemed to intensify and, suddenly, There was a foreign, hot wetness between his legs that he didn’t know how to process. What if—? “I think something's wrong,” he blurted out, concern for the baby suddenly overwhelming. 

Dulani paled but didn't delay. “I'll fetch the shaman.”After guiding him to the bed of furs, ze was gone. 

Each second was torturous. 

Tavion tried to focus on breathing, but he was panicking by the time the shaman—an elderly Lum'a with hair whitened with age—arrived with Dulani. She was a calm, soothing presence in the midst of a cyclone, and despite his terror, she was able to coax answers from him as she performed a physical examination. 

“This is your first pregnancy, yes?...How far along are you?...What species is the father? Do you know what the slavers gave you?...How long have you had cramping?...Have you bled before?”

Bleeding. 

He was bleeding from what the shaman called the _osejaline_ —an orifice that was usually sealed until an _oseja_ until they gave birth to their first child. 

Dulani hovered anxiously in the background while she worked. 

The shaman was blunt with him but not unsympathetic. “This could be a miscarriage. There is nothing to do but wait and see. Rest and drink this.”

Later, he would appreciate her honesty, but in the present he was too numb to do anything other than shakily clutch the cup she handed him. He drank it without thought, hardly tasting it. After ordering him to rest and promising to return, the shaman left. 

Rest. How could he rest?

“Tavion.” 

He looked to see Dulani watching him anxiously. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Go away.” 

Dulani didn’t look hurt at his harsh tone. Instead, ze nodded and gave Tavion the space he’d demanded. 

Rest never came. 

 

A miscarriage wasn’t an immediate thing, Tavion soon found out. It was an awful, draining process of cramping and bleeding. 

Grief was a wild animal in his chest, howling and clawing at his insides. He wished he could run into the middle of nowhere and scream, scream until the anguish in his chest didn’t threaten to crush him in its talons, but he couldn’t. The abdominal pain had him curled up in bed most of the time, stagnant and crippled. Even when it was manageable, he couldn't find the will to move and go about as if everything was alright. 

It would never be alright. 

At least, that’s how it felt. Part of him knew he would recover, if only because he had to, but he couldn’t fathom how. 

Every night, as he struggled to sleep, the memory of a heartbeat echoed in his mind. Despair threatened to consume him. He mourned what could have been, mourned the child he would never know. Was it ridiculous to feel this way for a baby he hadn’t been sure he could raise? At first, he’d been carrying the child for someone else entirely. How could he already be so attached? And if _he_ felt the loss this strongly, how would Jormaine and Adeleena feel? Would they even want him now? Could they forgive him? The shaman, Seri, made sure to tell him that the miscarriage wasn't his fault—that it could have been caused by the drugs used to sedate him—but that did little to ease his guilt. 

The only people he blamed more than himself were the slavers, and they _would_ pay. 

While he bled and grieved, unknown Lum'a entered the hunt to change the bedding and give him new, hot towels to soothe the pain in his abdomen. He paid them little attention even though it was rude; he couldn't bear to conduct small talk. For some reason, Dulani was the one who usually brought him food, but Tavion couldn’t stomach eating most of the time. The shaman had to intervene eventually, bringing him plain broth to sip twice a day under her supervision. 

Then, as suddenly as it had started, a week and a half later it was over. The shaman proclaimed his body was on the mend but advised him to take it easy, and just like that, he was expected to continue on with a gaping chasm in his chest.

“These things take time to heal,” the Seri had told him, a hand placed soothingly on his arm. “There are those that you can talk to if you wish.”

Tavion didn’t want to talk. 

As soon as he was alone, a lack of anything better to do led him to washing up. He’d done so only a handful of times since arriving but only because feeling blood trickle down his thighs while standing made him ill. When he exited the bathing chambers in the hut, it was to find Jamala _vi_ Kyrton waiting for him. Today, she wore an outfit similar to the one she’d been wearing when they met, but this time it was pure white. 

Tavion just stared at her, wondering if she had come to make him feel worse. _Good luck with that._

“No words can heal such a loss,” Jamala said solemnly. 

He didn’t want her sympathy, but he didn’t have the energy to be combative and remained silent. 

“The child will be honored, as all lost children are. Today, we gather to mourn. Join us if you feel up to it.” She departed without another word.

Join a bunch of strangers to mourn in public? No, thanks. Tavion hadn’t left the hut since his arrival, and doing so now felt too monumental a task. So, when Dulani entered later, ze found Tavion curled up in bed. As despondent as he was, he noticed that Dulani, like Jamala, was wearing all white. 

“Get up,” ze said without pity. “Get changed.” 

A white tunic hit him in the face. When the surprise wore off, he growled, “Go away.” 

“No,” Dulani replied simply. “The whole village has gathered to share in your grief.”

Tavion’s gut twisted with a dozen emotions. “I don’t want their pity.”

“Good because you won’t find any. You are a warrior. Now, dress. You only need to make an appearance. Then you can continue sulking.”

“I’m not _sulking_!” Tavion snapped. He was mourning, and he wanted to do it alone. If he needed to go to this stupid village funeral to finally get some peace, fine. 

He grumbled while he changed, tugging on the white tunic and following Dulani to the beaded curtain that led out of the hut. Anxiety flooded him with adrenaline as he passed through the doorway, but nothing disastrous happened, so he slowly took a look around. It truly was a village. Huts, like the one he’d been living in, dotted the landscape. As Dulani led them towards a large, central fire, Tavion noticed that there were other buildings as well, but he didn’t have time to identify what their purpose was. The structures didn’t hold his attention for long because all around him were Lum'a of every age and gender. Hundreds were gathered. It struck him quite suddenly that no one’s natural markings were the same; they were all subtly different. He’d simply never been in contact with enough Lum'a to notice. Next, he realized they were all wearing white. Even the little children. 

Many greeted him with smiles and foreign greetings as they passed, and soon they had reached the bonfire, sitting close enough that he could feel the heat of the flames on his skin. Some played music on foreign instruments, and others sang solemn songs in a language that Tavion had never heard but found moving all the same. 

He spotted Jamala across the fire, sitting on an overturned log beside an impressive looking Lum'a—very likely the chief. Tall and physically imposing, he scanned the crowd with calm authority. Unlike many of the other men, a pelt was draped over his shoulders, and he wore a crescent crown of twisted wood. It reminded Tavion of antlers, the way the ends of the intertwined branches were pointed up.  
Dulani squeezed his hand in support before going to stand at the chief’s left, which seemed to signal a quieting of the crowd. 

To Tavion’s surprise, Jamala stood and was the one to speak rather than the chief. “Tonight, we gather to pray for a soul’s safe departure from this world. May the stars welcome them home.” A murmur rushed through the crowd, a hushed prayer. “Tavion is new to us, but zir loss is one faced by women and _oseja_ since the beginning of time. Ze has earned zir first mark and the right to plant a seed in the orchard to commemorate zir loss. If anyone else has an offering, you may do so now.” 

_First mark? Orchard? Offering?_

Tavion didn’t have time to correct Jamala’s use of improper pronouns (let alone get answers) before many of those gathered around the campfire formed a line—mostly women and _oseja_. One by one, they approached to introduce themselves, offer their condolences, and give him gifts. Food was the most common—fruits and dried meats—but he was given candles, a special necklace, and a potted, flowering plant. An old woman even gave him scented oil ‘for that special someone’ in a conspiratorial tone that made him flush. Tavion was overwhelmed by the display of comradery from a village of people he didn’t know, and when a little girl tried to offer him her stuffed animal, he almost cried. 

The best gift of all came last—from Dulani who approached with a sharpened bone and a bowl of a black, ink-like substance and offered to give him his first mark. That seemed to signal to the villagers to give them space. 

“Lum'a men earn their marks from battle—from protecting and fighting,” ze explained, sitting beside him. “ _Oseja_ and women earn them through childbirth—and child loss.” 

Tavion’s eyes flickered to the tattoo that encircled Dulani’s wrist. Now knowing what it meant, he felt guilty for assuming Dulani didn’t understand what he’d suffered. Dulani, this village, even Jamala—they’d all come to honor his loss. His throat felt too tight to speak, so he silently offered his wrist. 

Dulani smiled softly and got to work.


	20. Customs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long and that it's not very long. RL got in the way. Enjoy! Please excuse any typos, and thank you for your patience! :D

Dulani came to get him early the next morning, far too awake for Tavion's liking. How ze had any energy after last night was baffling. 

After finishing the tattoo and teaching him how to take care of it until it healed, Dulani showed him to the orchard to the west of the village. According to zir, each tree had been planted in memory of a lost loved one—started by the founders of the village, a small group of escaped slaves. Tavion got to choose which species to plant, so since he wasn't familiar with the species he saw, he picked a purple flowering tree. Given the tools and a seed, Tavion was left alone to perform the private ritual. Thanks to Adeleena, he knew how to plant, so he got to it. 

When he was done, he placed a hand over the small dirt mound and silently prayed for forgiveness. From Adeleena, Jormaine, and the child they would never meet. He knelt there, hands coated in dirt and new tattoo aching, but he felt lighter. As if honoring what he'd lost, commemorating it, had started the healing process. 

He returned to the bonfire in a somber mood. Dulani was with a small group of _oseja_ (judging by their clothes), and before Tavion could debate the merits of quietly slipping away, Dulani waved him over and began introducing him. 

“This is Jata _vi_ Davarius, Aren _vi_ Tejin, and Kave _vi_ Mekonnen.”

Tavion looked at each of them in turn, trying not to stare at Aren's bulging belly—but the way zir cradled zir belly made it harder. “ _vi_ Davarius,” he finally echoed, looking to Jata. “That means your husband’s name is Davarius, right?” 

“Mate,” Kave corrected briskly, zir posture tense and accent thick. Ze was the only one in the group that had short hair, and it wasn't as dark as most Lum'a. Curiosity won out, and he glanced to Kave's thin wrists, finding ze had two tattoos. Did that mean he had two children, two miscarriages, or a combination? Judging by the unfriendly expression, Tavion figured ze wouldn't appreciate being asked. The open hostility on zir sharp face was unexpected, but he didn't let it bother him. He really didn't care if this stranger was offended by his ignorance. 

Kave turned back to the others and said something in a foreign tongue. Tavion assumed it was some sort of parting phrase because ze turned and promptly left. 

As soon as ze was gone, Jata smiled and said, “Don't mind Kave. Ze's not always that way.”

“Yes, ze is,” Aren contradicted with a grin. 

Jata made a disapproving sound and chided zir in another language, which only made Aren laugh more. Ze looked like ze laughed often and freely, and Tavion found himself envious of zir warm spirit. Aren was more feminine than the other _oseja_ , with long, free-flowing hair and pronounced breasts. As he wondered if that was because the baby was due soon—and what that might mean for _him_ — he noticed the string of numbers tattooed into zir left forearm. 

Realizing he’d gotten distracted, he abruptly asked, “That language. What is it?” to conceal his wandering thoughts. 

“Lumin,” Dulani answered. “Guessing you don't know it?” When Tavion confirmed zir suspicion, ze said, “Everyone learns Lumin. Your lessons will start soon, but I won’t be teaching you.”

“Don’t worry. You can still practice with us,” Aren declared. 

“But you all seem to speak Common well,” Tavion said, a slight protest. Learning a third language when he hadn’t mastered the second wouldn’t be easy. 

“The common tongue on Rinrade is good because it’s spoken across quite a few nearby planets, but it isn’t universal,” Dulani replied. 

Even though giving in felt like admitting he would be here a while, Tavion reasoned that he wanted to be able to speak to the chief in whatever language he knew best. “Makes sense.” 

“Now that business is done, we can drink!” Aren proclaimed, earning immediate protests for the baby’s sake. Ze made a mildly exasperated sound, said, “Don't worry!” and tossed Tavion a mischievous look. “Tavion will drink for me.”

Actually, after all that had happened, a drink sounded nice, so he shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Make sure to have plenty!” Aren said, grinning. “You’re drinking for three!” 

Tavion found it hard not to grin at zir enthusiasm, and let Dulani lead him to a banquet table where the scent of smoked meat hit him like a wall and a drink called _sequor_ awaited. He followed Dulani’s lead, grabbing a plate of food and then a cup of sweet smelling _sequor_ , and then they all sat together on the ground—close enough to the fire to be warm but not blanketed in heat. The drinks were fruity but, as expected, highly alcoholic. Exactly what Tavion needed. They drank, ate, and talked the night away. The more _sequor_ he had, the more at ease he felt—and the harder it got to focus.

They did their best to be welcoming, but Tavion couldn't help feeling like an intruder. It was a little overwhelming to be thrown in the middle of such a colorful bunch. Aren acted like he imagined a younger sibling might, playful and prodding. Dulani was mated to the chief and thus likely ranked the highest, but it was Jata who took the role of the responsible one.

It was carefree chaos, and it was wonderful. 

Well, it had been until Tavion was woken up. Now, he had a headache. Drinking for three had, in retrospect, not been his best idea.

He pulled the furs over his head, grunted, and tried to continue sleeping. 

Dulani uncovered him, undeterred. “Up. We’ve got a full day ahead of us. I wanna start by showing you around the village.” 

Tavion groaned. “I’m not going anywhere without a bath.”

That made Dulani smile. “I’ll grab us breakfast while you do.” 

Breakfast was light, nuts and fruit, but Tavion was starting to understand that was normal here. After they ate, Dulani made good on zir promise and showed him around. Despite the early hour, the village buzzed with life. In the distance, he could see crop fields being worked. Nearby, a group of men labored away, fixing a collapsed roof. Children scurried about, trailing after their mothers. Tavion even spotted Kave with a baby in one arm and a little girl on his heel. 

The sight made his heart twist. Not with envy but with the knowledge of what he was going to be missing. Yes, he could get pregnant again, but using that as a bandage for his wounded heart felt wrong. Just because he could have another child didn't mean he didn't mourn the one he'd lost. Besides, he hasn't decided on whether or not he wanted to try for a child anytime soon. Without Adeleena and Jormaine, it wasn't even something he was willing to consider. 

_By the stars. Do I even have a choice?_

His heat would be upon him in a few weeks, wouldn't it? 

Just the thought made him shudder. He'd never felt as helpless as he did upon waking up from the haze of his first heat. Would it always be like that? So intense, so all-consuming? If so, how could he avoid succumbing to that unyielding heat-induced desire while here? 

Quickly, he tried to calculate how likely he was to find a way home before his heat hit.

The odds didn't seem good. 

As they walked, Tavion struggled to focus on Dulani explaining that the housing was divided. Unmated _oseja_ and women lived near him, unmated men lived across the way, and mated pairs lived closer to the center of the village—regardless of if they had children or not. Ze showed him where the shaman's hut was, where the chief lived, and the location of the library. A library! Tavion hadn't been expecting that. There were more structures to learn of, but Tavion couldn't fathom needing to know where the blacksmith or daycare was. 

“So,” Dulani said, once the tour was done. “Any idea what job you might like to learn?” 

Tavion hadn't known he would be allowed to work, let alone expected to, but it was better to keep his mind occupied. “Farming?” he suggested. It made him feel close to Adeleena and Jormaine, the idea of working with plants and animals. 

Dulani nodded. “I'll introduce you tomorrow. Today, I want to spend some time teaching you the basics of our culture. So you don't feel so out of place.”

Tavion made a noncommittal sound, preoccupied by the realization that men were staring at him as they passed. Then, it clicked. These might be some of the men who would be _competing for him_. No wonder they were watching him. 

_They're trying to appraise their prize._

“So,” Tavion said abruptly, locking eyes with one of the staring men in the distance to let him know he was caught. Then, he looked to Dulani. “This contest where I'm the reward. Can you tell me more about it?” 

Dulani gave him a chiding look but either sensed his unease or figured they needed privacy for this conversation. “Sure. Let's head back to your place and chat.”

Once they were inside, Dulani refused to talk until they both had a hot drinks to sip. “Ask away,” ze said as they knelt at the table. 

“What exactly does the competition entail?” was the first question. He had dozens more, but it seemed like a good place to start. 

“It happens in three stages. First, the eligible men hunt. The four that catch the greatest prize, chosen by you or the chief, advance. This demonstrates that your mate can provide for you satisfactorily. Next, they spar each other in pairs to demonstrate their willingness to fight for you. The two winners then are given a chance to offer you a gift. You won't know which gift comes from who, but if neither are satisfactory, you can ask them to provide you with something. This is proof of their dedication to you.”

Ask them for something? “Anything?” he asked, flooded by ideas. 

“Anything within reason,” Dulani replied. “You can't ask them to do something impossible.”

No, he couldn't, but he _could_ ask one of them to get him an audience with the chief. If he could achieve that, he would be one step closer to getting home. 

Not one to leave things to chance, Tavion wondered if there was a way to know who would have the highest chance of getting him a chance to speak with the chief. “Can I meet the competitors?” 

Dulani shook zir head. “I can’t introduce you to them, but I can tell you who will likely be competing.” 

Ridiculous. “Why?”

“The spirits can sense favoritism,” Dulani replied in a tone that suggested ze was repeating something ze didn't believe. Then, ze said, “If you meet a male you like beforehand, and he doesn’t win, you may be biased against your new mate.”

Tavion wondered if it would help or hurt his case to point out he would be biased against _anyone_ he was forced to be with. Deciding to keep that to himself, he said, “We can convene with spirits now?” 

Dulani shrugged. “I haven't, but there are some that can. That's not really _oseja_ territory.”

Tavion didn't believe in spirits, so the idea of someone claiming they could talk to them was met with firm skepticism. He felt no need to make his opinion known, however, so he focused on what Dulani implied. It reminded him of when his mother had spoken of magic. “What _is_ our territory then?” 

After a contemplative look, ze replied, “Not everyone has magic. Stories say it used to be more prevalent, but so many of our people were killed…” Ze trailed off for a second before clearing zir throat and continuing. “ _Oseja_ usually have fertility magic, but it's different for each _oseja_. Some can tell the gender of a baby in the womb. Some conceive very easily. Some can even help others conceive.” 

Though Dulani looked excited at the prospect, Tavion felt the ground fall out from under him. That last statement echoed in his mind as he thought of Adeleena and Jormaine. Then, he remembered the slaver's comment about Adeleena conceiving a child—how Jormaine would have no use for him afterwards. 

Had they picked him because they'd heard rumors of fertility magic in Lum'a? 

“Can we help someone who's infertile?” he forced himself to ask. 

“Not sure. If you want, I could ask one of the historians.” 

Tavion nodded absentmindedly, but it didn't really matter if he could or couldn't. No, it only mattered if the Salases thought it was true—if it had influenced their decision to choose him. If it had, could he blame them? He would be hurt, yeah, but did it change anything? 

“So. Want to get started on learning what you'll need to know for the contest and what comes after?” 

No, he really didn't, but Tavion knew better than to assume he had a choice. “Sure. When's the contest take place?” He remembered being told it had been rescheduled, but he'd been consumed by the physical and emotional strain of the miscarriage. 

“Seven days.”

Seven days until he could seek an audience with the chief. “Let's get started then.” 

 

Dulani spent the majority of the next six days introducing Tavion to important Lum'a customs and beliefs. With three genders came three sets of gender norms. From what Tavion could understand, women and _oseja_ were of similar status, and their main purpose seemed to be making more Lum'a. Tavion wasn't sure if that was traditional or if it was a custom of this haven, but it made logical sense. They needed to repopulate. 

Tavion simply wasn't interested in helping. 

Men were warriors, hunters, and providers and were raised from a young age to be so. The more mates a man had, the better he supposedly was at all three. The logic was that a man had to be apt to provide for so many mates and children. However, despite that there was no rule on how many women a man could mate, he could only have one _oseja_. 

Apparently _oseja_ really were rare, and the village wanted them and their 'fertility magic' spread across as many families as possible. 

_Like a good luck trinket._

Once gender norms were established, Dulani gave him a firm list of “don'ts.” 

Don't be alone with an unmated man. (To prevent rumors and unsanctioned copulations.)

Don't leave your hut during your heat. ( _Osejas_ were locked away during their heats. “For our own safety,” Dulani said, and Tavion was so irritated by the fact that ze truly seemed to believe that.) 

Don't go out at night without a chaperone. Don't dance with an unmated man. Don't ask a woman or _oseja_ what their tattoos are for.  
Don't, don't, don't. 

The village had more rules than Vergate had laws, and Tavion was far from impressed with the sexist customs. It didn't escape his notice that _oseja_ , his supposed gender, were treated very similarly to women. 

After realizing he could bear children, he had dreaded being looked upon as feminine because he'd fallen for the fictitious logic trap that many men did. The belief that masculinity meant strength, and its opposite—femininity—must mean weakness.  
Tavion now knew the truth. He was no man, but he was not a woman either—and that didn't bother him as much as it once would have. Instead, now, it simply felt _right._

As Dulani listed each ridiculous rule, he held his tongue. He wasn't here to change their ways. He was just trying to survive long enough to talk to the chief and get back to Vergate. That plan still included the Salases because although it was possible they had been using him, the Lum'a clearly planned to do the same. 

As promised, Dulani also organized immediate Lumin lessons for Tavion with a middle-aged woman who took her job very seriously. She believed in hands-on learning, so once she taught him a basic vocabulary list (all oral, none written), she stopped speaking to him in Common completely. It was as frustrating as it was (eventually) effective. 

When he wasn't learning, he was helping de-weed the crop fields with other Lum'a—enough though it wasn't a very _oseja_ job. It was simple work but was physically demanding that he fell asleep quickly each night. 

All except the night before the Contest of Vanos. It was nearly time to sleep, but he was wide awake. The contest was necessary to achieve what he wanted, but the fact that he didn't have a choice anyway chafed—and that was only one problem he had with it. Being the center of a spectacle, being reduced to a _reward_. If the man who won thought he would win the rights to Tavion's body—well, he would enjoy enlightening him. 

The beaded curtain rattled, announcing Dulani's entrance. “Want company?” 

He certainly didn't wanna be alone, so he nodded, and ze entered, handing him something wrapped in a small cloth. 

Tavion unwrapped it, noticing the sweet aroma immediately. It seemed to be some sort of bread. “What's this?” 

“A good luck gift from the baker,” ze replied. “Try it.”

He did, taking a conservative bite, and found the bread filled with a sticky, sweet jam. It was good, and he finished the whole thing in a few bites. 

Dulani grinned. “Sika only makes those for special occasions.”

Tavion grimaced. _Special occasion. That's one way to put it._

“Nervous?” Dulani asked. 

Nervous? Tavion was furious. Keeping his feelings to himself, he deflected the question by asking, “How did you _feel_ the night before you…?” He trailed off, unable to find a polite way to refer to Dulani's time as the prize of the competition. Tavion wasn't even sure if Dulani had even been through this, but the other _oseja_ quickly confirmed it when ze replied. 

“Scared,” Dulani admitted. “The contest is supposed to take place quickly after the arrival of an _oseja_ , but I had about as much time to adjust as you did.” A hand went to zir neck, rubbing the scar there. “Moro bought me from a private owner. I was…I wasn't in good shape when I arrived, and since the _oseja_ is expected to attend, my healing delayed it.” 

Tavion shuddered to think what Dulani must have experienced at the hands of zir _owner_. So, Moro had helped Dulani, and the village had helped him heal. Fine. That didn't mean _he_ had be grateful for their interference in _his_ life. 

“After years of slavery, I was afraid that the contest would only earn me a new master,” Dulani continued, and zir blatant honesty made Tavion uncomfortable. “But the chief has never hurt me. Has never been cruel to me.”

Was it wrong that Tavion wanted more than a mate that "wasn't cruel" to him? “And you're content with that?” 

Dulani looked pensive. “I came here with nothing. Not even a voice. What I have now is more than I imagined I ever would. Give this place a chance. It might surprise you.” Then, ze turned and headed to the door, pausing once more to say, “Get some rest. I'll be back in the morning.”

Tavion sighed once he was alone. He was glad for Dulani—truly—but that didn't mean he had to stay. Tavion, unlike zir, had a home to return to, and he wouldn't be deterred.


	21. Champion

Tavion decided he really missed pants. The dress-like tunic did nothing to shield his legs from the crisp morning air. How women managed he couldn't fathom. Maybe it was experience? None of the other  _ oseja _ seemed to notice the cold, or maybe they were just better at hiding it. They stood at his side, separated from their mates to stand in solidarity with him. It was just another part of the customs of the contest, but he was grateful for the company nonetheless. 

Mist blanketed the ground as far as the eye could see. Despite the density of the trees, Tavion could see the forest ahead of them was thick with it. Dozens of men were gathered in the nearby clearing, boisterous and brimming with energy. Some wielded swords, others had spears, and few carried large axes for the first part of the contest—the hunt. 

Tavion didn't let his gaze linger on any individual, refusing to mentally partake in this charade. No matter who won, he would not accept them as his mate. This was all just so he could meet with the chief. 

An audience had gathered to watch the competition, and while most of them sat on the ground on thick blankets or furs, the chief sat on a wooden chair. This time, for whatever reason, Jamala was not at his side. He was glad. The less he saw of her, the better. Tavion and the other  _ oseja _ were away from the crowd—not that he knew why or cared. Just another custom he didn't understand. 

The segregation was a nice representation of their culture as a whole, he thought bitterly. 

Aren started him with a disgusted sound. “Look who's competing again. He's lost three times in a row now. Take a hint!” 

Kave and Jata chided zir at the same time, but, interestingly, Dulani said nothing. Tavion trusted Dulani's judgment more than anyone else's, so if ze didn't think this man was worth defending, he wasn't. Which made Tavion wonder what he'd done to be so disliked. So far, none of the men had come close to impressing Tavion, so if one stood out as the worst, he wanted to know why. 

“You were all thinking it,” Aren grumbled accusingly. 

Jata hissed something in Lumin, scolding him. 

Suddenly flustered, Aren turned to Tavion. “Don't worry, Tav. He hasn't won a competition yet. I doubt he will now.”

Jata gave a long-suffering sigh, and Tavion got the impression that Aren hadn't addressed what Jata had scolded zir for. 

That matter was pushed aside when Aren gasped. “Look! KaRon is competing!” Then, realizing Tavion wouldn't know why that was significant, quickly added, “He's never competed before.”

Tavion failed to see why he should care but followed Aren's subtle gesture to a Lum'a who stood alone sharpening his spear. His midnight blue hair was pulled back into a braid just below his shoulders that ran to the middle of his spine. His expression was focused, serious, and because he (like the other men) wore no shirt, it was easy to see how built he was. That man was ninety-five percent muscle. The sheen of sweat on his skin showed how hard he was working to perfect his preferred tool for the upcoming hunt. 

Dulani leaned in to whisper, “He's Jamala's older brother.”

So, he was family with the chief. That tidbit had Tavion rooting for him. If anyone could get him a chance to talk to the chief, it would be his brother-by-mating. Hopefully he wasn't as irritating as Jamala. 

As if ze could read his mind, Aren said, “I hope he wins. He’d make a great husband.” 

Verbalizing favoritism, apparently, was taboo because the other  _ oseja  _ protested in unison. 

“The spirits can hear you!” Jata snapped. 

“You insult the competitors,” Kave said gravely while Dulani said something in Lumin. 

Tavion, however, only grinned appreciatively at Aren. “Thanks.” He didn’t particularly care about KaRon’s suitability as a husband, but he was enjoying riling the others up. Why should  _ he _ be the only one having a bad day? 

Aren winked, and before anyone could express more outrage, Dulani said, “It's starting,”

Tavion looked to the clearing and watched as the men stood at attention, focusing on the chief. Unfortunately, when Kyrton spoke, it was in Lumin, and mere days of lessons wasn't enough for Tavion to understand him. He chanced a glance to Dulani, hoping to prompt the  _ oseja  _ into translating, but zir eyes were fixed firmly on the chief. 

And was that fondness in zir gaze? 

The chief concluded the speech and, as if let off leash, the men turned and raced towards the forest, disappearing into the trees with excited hoots and hollers. 

“Who wants to fill me in?” Tavion asked.

Jata and Kave exchanged a glance. 

Aren opened zir mouth to reply, but Dulani spoke first. “The chief was reminding them what they came here for—what is at stake. Then, he wished them luck and began the first trial.”

“What's at stake?” Tavion repeated dryly. 

Dulani looked sheepish. “He may have been more explicit than that, but that was the gist.”

“Chief Kyrton has a way with words,” Jata said diplomatically. 

Aren waggled zir eyebrows. “Yes, he does.”

Tavion decided not to ask for more information, and silence descended upon the group. 

Time crawled by. 

He tried to keep busy by studying the scenery and then by people-watching, wondering if they were as bored as he was. He watched the mothers supervise a group of younglings who were playing some sort of game. There were quite a few of them, but it struck Tavion as sad that they likely made up the majority of what was left of Lum'a across the galaxy. 

The other  _ oseja _ chatted around him, mostly in Lumin, to pass the time. When he began to debate how disrespectful a nap would be, he started talking just to stay awake. 

“Am I the only one bored?” 

Kave hissed at him in Lumin and then said, “Always so disrespectful. You should be grateful.”

Tavion looked at zir as if ze was insane. “ _ Grateful?”  _ Outraged at Kave's ignorance, his every frustration began pouring out like the cracking of a dam. “For what? Being the unwilling prize for this parade of masculinity? What does  _ hunting  _ prove to me? That my future husband, of which I have  _ no say in _ , is great at killing? What a way to make me trust him!” 

“Only someone who's never gone hungry would scoff at a man's ability to provide for zir,” Kave sneered disdainfully. 

Tavion's expression darkened. “You don't know anything about me.”

“I know that you're asham—” 

“Enough,” Dulani said softly, and it was a credit to his authority that Kave immediately fell silent.

Ashamed? He wasn't—

Tavion took a breath and remembered his promise never to lie to himself. Maybe he  _ was _ ashamed, but he'd come a long way since discovering his biological heritage. Shame had nothing to do with how he felt now, however. Currently, he was simmering with rage, and as Kave has proven, it took little provocation to boil over. He had plenty of reasons to be angry, but he couldn't focus on that right now. He had to think long term.

“I should see to Tongo,” Dulani said. “By your leave,  _ vi _ Kyrton.”

Dulani gave a nod, and Kave headed towards the children. Tavion's gaze followed zir, watching as ze approached a group of nursing mothers. They greeted zir politely, and a little girl abandoned play to dash over to zir—the same little girl he'd seen with Kave before. So, where was the baby? 

Deciding it didn't really matter, he listened to the others mindlessly chatter while they waited for the hunters to return. It was agonizingly boring. If his fate was to be forcibly married to a man he didn't know, couldn't they at least hurry it up? 

A horn blared, breaking through the monotony. 

Tavion looked to the forest, certain the alarm must be an announcement having to do with the tournament, but the sound seemed to have come from the direction of the village. He looked but didn't see anyone emerging from the trees, so he surveyed the gathered Lum'a, taking the temperature of the crowd, and found them anxious and uncertain. 

_ What's going on?  _

He looked to the chief and found the man at his side was armed and looking at the sky in the horizon. 

Tavion followed his gaze and saw something was approaching—fast.

His heart leaped at the glint of golden feathers. 

_ Jormaine!  _

He  _ felt it _ , the moment Jormaine saw him. Their eyes locked, and his breath caught in his throat at what had to be the most magnificent sight he'd ever seen. 

 Jormaine changed direction, coming straight towards him and the other  _ oseja.  _ The crowd of civilians descended into panic, and as the Avvai landed, he took carefully measured steps to close the distance between them—hair whipping in the turbulence from Jormaine’s quick decent. 

It took his brain a moment to catch up to what he witnessed. As Jormaine landed, a ripple—of what could only be described as pure power—erupted from him as the epicenter. Everyone within a vast diameter was tossed backwards with a violent force—clearing the area of the warriors that were charging. The wave knocked away everyone except Tavion and, to his surprise, Aren. 

_ Because he's with child?  _

Tavion had never seen such a display of power, and Jormaine didn't look at all fatigued from its use—as if he'd only given them a sample of what was to come. Tavion stood in silent awe of the display. Knowing that Jormaine had always contained such power, never letting it out of his control, gave Tavion a new perspective on the Avvai lord. 

_ No wonder he's so feared.  _

Yet, despite that fear, Tavion had never heard anyone agree on what Jormaine's power was. Everyone said it was something different, and he certainly didn't remember  _ telekinesis  _ being mentioned. 

_ Focus.  _

As much as he longed to throw himself into Jormaine’s arms—(talk about damsel in distress!)—he held back, giving Jormaine room to defend himself as the warriors staggered to their feet and began encircling them. They quickly pulled the other  _ oseja  _ away, pulling a stunned Aren to safety, but Tavion refused their calls to fall back. He walked with purpose to Jormaine's side and planted his feet, glaring defiantly as the warriors raised their weapons.

Jormaine eyed them as one might impertinent toddlers. “You have something that belongs to me,” he declared, molten eyes challenging. “I'm not leaving without him. How many of you will die trying to stop me?” 

The warriors did their best not to look intimidated, but Tavion could see the fear in their eyes. 

_ Good.  _

Maybe it was petty to enjoy their apprehension, but they definitely deserved it. 

“State your name and your business,” came the chief’s voice, and Tavion watched as the crowd parted so Kyrton could approach Jormaine head-on. 

Jormaine did neither. “My name is none of your concern. As for my business, I believe I just did.” 

Yup. He was furious. Tavion knew it as surely as he knew his own name. 

“You come here, to our secret home, presuming you need not explain yourself?” Chief Kyrton scoffed at the audacity. 

The crowd murmured in agreement, backing their leader in the face of a powerful foe. 

Jormaine stared impassively. “If we're to parlay, tell your warriors to stand down. If we're to fight, you're not entitled to answers before I slaughter you where you stand.”

As angry as Tavion was at being held against his will, he wasn't willing to see these people die. They were misguided, not cruel.  _ They _ hadn’t kidnapped him. They’d tried to help in a strange way. “Parlay,” he said quickly. “I vote parlay.”

The chief looked to him as if just remembering Tavion was there. 

Jormaine didn't question his request. Maybe he realized Tavion wouldn't ask for mercy if they'd harmed him or maybe he wasn't as eager to kill as he pretended. “My  _ corpyr _ has spoken.”

Kyrton turned his severe gaze back to Jormaine. “Very well.” He raised his fist and the warriors begrudgingly fell back, giving them enough space to have a private discussion. “I will hear what you have to say.”

Tavion gave Jormaine a look, imploring him to be cooperative, but the Avvai had his eyes fastened upon Kyrton. “Tavion comes with me.”

“And what would we get?” 

_ Well, that's not a no… _

“To keep your lives.”

Tavion mentally groaned. Jormaine excelled at diplomacy. He had to in order to rub elbows with the criminals and elite of Vergate. So, why was he being so tactless? Then again, maybe he just threatened  _ everyone _ into submission. Somehow, that wasn’t hard to imagine. 

The chief did not look intimidated, and before things could escalate further, Tavion stepped in again. 

“Allies.”

Both men looked to him, but only Kyrton looked surprised. Was he not used to an  _ oseja _ interrupting so much? Well, too bad. Tavion wasn't about to sit back and “let the men handle it.” So, encouraged by Jormaine's lack of protesting, Tavion elaborated. “Like how Morro is an ally. I'll make sure our home is a safe haven for Lum'a that need it, and if they want to come here, we'll organize transportation.”

As soon as he made the offer, he realized how much he wanted to do just that. To help his kind but also give them the choice he'd been denied—just the idea excited him. Jormaine had once asked him what he wanted to do with his life, and this was it. He just prayed Jormaine wouldn't refuse. The Avvai didn't have to negotiate. He could probably extract Tavion and give them nothing, but as much as Tavion didn't appreciate almost being forced into marriage, he didn't want to cut himself off from his people entirely. 

They weren’t  _ all _ bad. 

He remembered the night they’d mourned with him, remembered Dulani etching the tattoo into his skin. 

Kyrton contemplated this. “And who is this man to make such an offer?” 

Tavion straightened. “He is  _ Litr _ Jormaine Salas, ex-Cadre of the Avvai, and I'm his  _ oseja _ , Tavion  _ vi  _ Jormaine.”

Though he said it with as much gusto as possible, he knew the chief likely wouldn't understand half of what he'd said. Still, politics wasn’t always about what you said so much as how you said it. 

Kyrton frowned, looking contemplative. “He is a leader, your mate.”

It wasn't a question, but Tavion confirm it anyway. “He helps rule Vergate.” Which was really a simplification, but that didn’t make it less true. 

His gamble that the chief would understand that significance—based on Dulani's history with Vergate—was rewarded when Kyrton looked impressed. 

It was a victory, and that victory emboldened Tavion. “In exchange for our partnership, I'm also offering sanctuary to any Lum'a  _ here  _ that want it.” A daring demand but he wanted to repay those that had helped him. Dulani deserved that, at least. He really hoped Kave chose to stay here, however, because he wasn't feeling  _ that  _ charitable. 

Kyrton looked vexxed. “We are rebuilding a population. No. You cannot make this offer to everyone.”

Negotiating sucked. “Just the  _ oseja _ then. That's, what, four civilians at most? It's a good deal, and you know it. We'll be helping you find more Lum'a than that.” A blind guess, but hoping to back it up, he asked, “How many has Moro helped here?” 

“Thirteen,” Kyrton replied with reluctance. 

“We can do more than double that with our resources.” He hoped. How hard could it be? He hadn't really met other Lum'a in Vergate, but he hadn't looked for them either. Once he started actively searching, maybe he would.

Kyrton looked at Jormaine, as if expecting him to object. 

“Tavion is correct. Even now, I know the location of a Lum'a on Vergate.”

Tavion almost startled at the statement. 

The chief's frustration was thinly veiled. “You ask for so much and give me nothing substantial I can bring to my people in recompense.”

“You mustn't appear weak. I understand,” Jormaine said and, in the same even tone, added, “But do not think I won't simply take what I want. The only choice you face is what I'm willing to give you in return. Bloodshed or a partnership.”

Kyrton stood silently for a moment, debating his options. “You could compete for him.”

“No,” Jormaine didn't even indulge the suggestion by asking what the competition was. “Now, make a choice.”

Tavion shifted nervously. Would Kyrton insist on fighting? How many lives was the chief willing to lose to try to keep him prisoner here? If anyone died because of—

“Very well.”

Not letting out a breath of relief was difficult, and Tavion stiffened when he realized the chief had turned to him. 

“May the spirits hold you accountable if you do not honor your end of the bargain,” Kyrton said. Then, swiftly, he turned and walked back to his people. Likely to explain to them the new arrangement. 

“If they attack, my priority will be getting you out of here,” Jormaine said quietly, as soon as Kyrton was out of earshot. 

Tavion nodded in acknowledgement, but while his lover was planning for betrayal, he was watching the chief as he spoke to the gathered Lum'a. He scanned the crowd, looking for Dulani, and when he finally found zir, ze had a look of shock on zir face. 

_ Good or bad ?  _ Tavion wondered, having no idea what the chief was saying—how he was explaining the situation. If the crowd didn't approve, would the chief decide against proceeding as allies? 

Waiting was the worst part. 

Then, abruptly, the chief turned and began to walk back to them. Aren and Dulani followed, and tentative hope took root in Tavion's chest. 

_ Do they want to come?  _

Would Kyrton really let his  _ oseja _ leave? 

The chief met Jormaine's eyes when he reached them. “This is Aren and Dulani.”

Jormaine cast a brief glance to Aren's swollen belly. “And the father takes no issue with zir leaving?” 

Tavion tried not to let his surprise show. How did Jormaine know which pronoun was proper? 

“The father was killed in a hunting accident. His current husband has no claim on the child.”

Aren kept zir eyes on the ground while they discussed zir, and Tavion couldn't remember ever seeing zir look so meek. He didn't like it—didn't enjoy seeing zir so subdued. Worried that they were being forced into this, he interrupted. 

“Do you  _ want  _ to leave?” he asked, eyes on his fellow  _ oseja.  _

Aren and Dulani looked startled, but Aren quickly nodded, casting a cursory glance to Kyrton as an afterthought—perhaps worried ze'd offered insult. 

“I don't know,” Dulani replied. “Vergate isn't exactly safe, is it?” 

“You'll have my protection,” Jormaine assured him, and the promise relieved Tavion. If he was willing to offer that, then it wasn't likely he was upset by having to open his home to strangers. So, Tavion gave them an encouraging look to back up Jormaine's vow. They'd both helped make him feel welcome here, helped guide him, and he intended to return the favor. 

After giving it some thought, Dulani nodded.

“You’ll be seeing me again soon, but we'll be leaving now,” Jormaine said to Kyrton, business concluded. 

To Tavion's surprise, Dulani rushed to Kyrton and threw zir arms around him in a tight embrace. They exchanged words in Lumin, and then Dulani stepped back, teary eyed. 

“I'm ready,” ze said. 

Tavion had no idea how Jormaine planned to get them all back to Vergate, but he didn't have to wonder long. As if given an invisible signal, two Avvai descended from the clouds—one with wings of powder blue dipped in lilac and another with cerulean wings striped with black. As they touched down, Tavion could see they had similar facial features—brothers perhaps—but the similarities ended there. The lighter winged man had eyes full of mirth, but his companion looked deadly serious. 

“My  _ Litr _ ,” both said in Avvai. 

“Take them to the ship,” Jormaine replied in the same language, not introducing anyone. It seemed he was just as eager to leave as Tavion was.  

Wait.  _ Ship?  _

The brothers nodded, and Jormaine turned to Tavion. “Ready to go home?” 

“Stars, yes,” Tavion said honestly, not bothering to conceal his relief.

Without delay, Jormaine scooped him up in his arms and took flight. The rush of air was like the embrace of an old friend, and Tavion relaxed in Jormaine's familiar arms. A glance behind them revealed that Jormaine's men were carrying Aren and Dulani similarly, and he couldn't help but grin at their apprehension.

They flew for a few minutes before a metallic spacecraft came into view, parked in an open field. Though they hadn’t flown long, based on how fast Avvai could fly, that didn’t mean they hadn’t gone far. His eyes swept over the ship, wondering who’d flown it and if it belonged to the Salases, but the train of thought was derailed when its door opened, a ramp descended, and Adeleena emerged. 

As soon as Jormaine set him down, he raced towards her, abandoning all decorum and embracing her. When she returned the embrace, everything he’d been trying to suppress since his abduction broke through, and he shattered in her arms. 

Tavion wept.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was NOT how I planned for the chapter to go, so it took way longer than expected. Jormaine was done with my shit. xD Thoughts?


	22. Reunited

Adeleena didn't rush him. She simply held him until the tears stopped, and while he stood in her embrace, the world around them ceased to exist. There was so much he wanted to tell her and Jormaine—first and foremost that he'd miscarried—but that required privacy. 

If they wanted to revoke his title of  _ corpyr _ because he'd failed to uphold the contract, he certainly didn't want an audience. 

Did he really think they would? It was far more likely they would wish to try again, but he feared rejection all the same. Especially because he wasn't certain he was ready for another pregnancy. 

He needed more time. 

Eventually, he pulled away, and she let him. Instead of asking him what had prompted the tears, her hand clasped his. “Let us return home. You've been missed.” With a warm smile, she led him inside the ship. 

Tavion would have liked a tour and then to make sure Dulani and Aren were settled in, but Adeleena had other plans. She gently directed him through the ship without a word, and a quick look behind them revealed that Jormaine was following. Tavion had never been on a ship before, so he found it difficult not to marvel at every detail he glimpsed on the way. 

They paused at a metal door, and when Adeleena told it to, “Open,” it did.  

He let her pull him inside what turned out to be a compact but generous living quarters. Underneath a sizeable loft bed was a desk and chair, leading Tavion to believe this was the ship Jormaine used for business trips. There was no kitchen, but the room had its own shower stall. A set of shelves held a few books, and beneath those shelves were several drawers—perhaps full of clothes. 

Once Jormaine slipped in, the door automatically closed, and they were alone. 

Tavion felt a cold rush of anxiety. 

_ I lost the baby _ . 

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't speak them—didn't want to see their faces when he broke their hearts.

“How did you find me?” he asked, delaying the inevitable. 

Jormaine was the one who answered. “The man who was with Moro when you were purchased is a spy of mine. He was able to get me the names of the mercenaries who kidnapped you, and with their  _ eager _ cooperation—” 

_ They're definitely dead,  _ Tavion decided, based on Jormaine's choice of words. 

“—I found out who hired them. Zadra Acosta.”

It took him a moment to remember the pink-winged Avvai. She clearly hadn't liked Adeleena, but he was surprised to find out she would go so far to hurt the Salases. 

“After I broke both of her wings, we agreed it was best she tell me what I wanted to know. Then, I gave her the honor of fighting for her life.”

“Hardly honorable when she begged for mercy with her dying breath,” Adeleena muttered, contempt thick in her voice. 

Tavion didn't feel much of anything over her demise. He wasn't glad for it, but he wasn't upset either. “What did she tell you?” 

“That she thought removing you would make us look weak. That it would show others we cannot protect our own.”

Tavion wondered if proving that point had been worth her life. “Did you take care of the slavers the mercenaries gave me to?” 

“ _ Liry _ Acosta,” Jormaine supplied. “Zadra's mother. She had no idea what her daughter had planned, but I do not condone slavery and she knowingly held captive the  _ corpyr  _ of another Avvai. Her life was forfeit the moment she decided not to contact me. Her operation has been shut down and the slaves were freed.”

Tavion nodded. A slaver deserved no less. Then, remembering the final party involved in his abduction, at least in part, he said, “Moro?” 

Jormaine's lips twitched at the name. 

It was Adeleena that said, “As soon we learned he was involved, he became our permanent  _ guest, _ and when we implied his son's life depended on his cooperation, he was quite eager to help us in any way he could.”

Tavion didn't really feel bad for him. “And now?” 

“I considered abandoning him here,” Jormaine said off-handedly. “I'm the end, we decided to leave his fate to you. He didn't kidnap you, but he didn't free you either. He's currently behind detained on Vergate.”

Interestingly, Moro probably thought returning him to his people  _ was _ freeing him. If he'd only asked Tavion what he'd wanted, all of this could have been avoided. “I'll decide after I talk to him, if that's okay?” 

“Of course,” Adeleena said, rubbing his arm soothingly. She had always been more liberal with affectionate gestures, and he was grateful because he desperately needed them. 

“As long as you understand I'll be standing guard outside while you do,” Jormaine said. 

In light of the conversation to come, Tavion acquiesced without protest. 

“Do you need rest?” Adeleena suddenly asked, openly concerned. “You look exhausted.” 

He forced a tired smile at her fussing. “I'll be fine.”

“We couldn't bring a doctor with us, but we'll have you in for an appointment as soon as possible.” She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “Just to ensure you're both alright.”

_ Both.  _

The guilt was suddenly too much to bare. “I—” He choked on the words, eyes fixed on the ground. “I lost the baby.”

He expected to feel the rage of Jormaine's power brush against his skin, expected to be interrogated, but he instead found himself in a firm embrace. Adeleena held him, and as she did, Jormaine's wings encased them both—a shelter against the world. 

“I'm sorry,” he blurted out. 

“It's not your fault,” Adeleena assured him. 

Without any of the facts, she supported him unconditionally, and that only made his heart ache more. “Isn't it?” he replied. Everyone kept telling him it wasn't his fault, but that's not how it felt. 

“No. It isn't,” Jormaine said.  

They guided him to bed where, cuddled between them, he told them everything that had happened, starting with the call about his mother (whom Jormaine assured him was fine). Adeleena lightly pet his back while he spoke, never faltering. The skin on skin contact was soothing, but so was Jormaine's steady gaze as he recanted the events. 

When he told them about the miscarriage and subsequent mourning ritual, Jormaine inspected the tattoo, rubbing a thumb over the pulse in Tavion's wrist. That simple contact made him burn with yearning, made him all too aware of how long it had been since he'd been alone with his lovers. 

But it didn't escape his notice that they only seemed focused on ensuring  _ his _ well-being. He'd had time to process the loss, but they hadn't. “I've had over a week to mourn, but you've only just found out. You—”  _ You don't have to be strong for me, _ he wanted to say. 

Jormaine cupped his chin, golden eyes locked onto his. “Tavion, I thought I'd lost you  _ both _ . Do I grieve the loss of our unborn child? Yes. How could I not? But to have you here, whole and safe, is more than I expected.”

Tavion felt his throat tighten at the vulnerability in his lover's words. “You're gonna make me cry again,” he grumbled, trying to hide his reaction.

Adeleena ran her hand down his back. “There is no one here you need to be strong for. You have nothing to prove to us.”

With a half-hearted scowl, Tavion said, “I know!” Which wasn't a complete lie. He  _ did _ trust their affection for him. Mostly. “For the record, I almost rescued myself—” His plan would have worked. Probably. “—But thanks for the back up.” 

“Always.” A single worded promise drenched in absolution. 

  
  
  
  


Despite knowing that he should go see how Aren and Dulani were settling in, Tavion spent the majority of the day nestled in bed with Adeleena and Jormaine. No one disturbed them except to bring lunch, and he noticed that it consisted of his favorite foods. He was definitely being spoiled, but after everything that had happened, he needed it. 

After lunch, Tavion decided to ask a few more of the questions that were on his mind. “What you did to the Lum'a when you pushed them away, what was it?” he asked while he lay between them. 

Jormaine made a thoughtful sound. “All Avvai have Talents, but not all are noteworthy. Some can only whisper a word or two into your mind. Others can gleam your deepest fears from a glance. Many more harness the power of the elements with varying power.”

Tavion listened, petting Jormaine's wing as he did, enjoying the soft sensation on the delicate skin of his palm. 

“I am peculiar because I possess more than one Talent. What you witnessed was telekinesis.”

Tavion felt it, the brush of power against his skin that made his hair stand on end. The same power he'd felt before, when Jormaine was brimming with rage. 

“You need not fear. I have immaculate control.”

Jormaine had mistaken his stillness for fear, and Tavion set out to rectify that immediately. “I'm not afraid. I  _ like  _ it. It feels like…” For a lack of a better word, he said, “You.”

Adeleena chuckled. “He must have mistaken you for a fragile, little  _ oseja _ .” 

Tavion rolled his eyes, even though she couldn't see it. “Moro taught you more about Lum'a.”

It wasn't a question; it was an observation. That's how Jormaine knew what pronouns to use and what an  _ oseja _ was. 

“He did,” she confirmed. 

Taking a breath, Tavion asked the question that had resurfaced in his mind—the one whose answer would likely hurt. “So, did Moro teach you that some Lum'a, the  _ oseja _ , have fertility magic or did you know that beforehand?” 

Then, he waited with baited breath, looking away because he didn't want to see their reactions. 

“Beforehand.”

Jormaine's reply hurt so much he almost didn't hear Adeleena when she said, “We did all the research we could. Conception was our primary concern for a surrogate, but that's far from our biggest priority now. Tavion, if you want to remain on heat suppressors for the rest of your life, you would still be our  _ corpyr. _ ”

Stunned by the declaration, Tavion looked to Jormaine for confirmation, but instead of replying, Jormaine leaned in and captured his mouth. It was a needy, passionate kiss that left him desperate for more. His hands roamed Jormaine's wings hesitantly at first, but the longer Jormaine kissed him, the bolder he became.

Jormaine pulled back just enough to speak. “Make no mistake. Seeing you carry our child would be—” 

The Avvai's fingers traced down Tavion's belly and lingered, making his skin shudder in anticipation. 

“—breathtaking.”

Tavion made an encouraging sound when Jormaine finally slipped beneath his tunic. 

“Did you miss me,  _ sreliri?”  _

All Tavion could manage was a nod, and although he expected to be reprimanded for not speaking, Jormaine eagerly took him in hand. One moan was all it took for Jormaine to start stroking him, long, slow, and teasing. When Tavion arched into the touch, demanding more, Adeleena pulled his hands behind his back and began showering his neck with kisses. Neither of them had any intention of letting him set the pace, and when he begged for more, Adeleena silenced his pleas with long, deep kisses that left his lips swollen. 

Tavion was at their mercy, and there was no place he would rather be. 

  
  
  
  
  


Thankfully, the room was equipped with a shower, small but functional, so they were able to wash up after their spontaneous lovemaking. As they finished eating dinner, the guilt of not checking on Aren and Dulani began to make Tavion feel restless. So, he asked where they were being kept. 

“I'll accompany you,” Adeleena said, clearly eager to meet them. 

“As will I,” Jormaine added. 

They both knew, from his recounting, that the two  _ oseja  _ had helped him in different ways. Maybe that's why they wanted to come with. Regardless, Tavion had a few things to discuss with them. 

When they found the guest rooms empty, Jormaine led the way to an open dining area with long tables and cushioned, metal chairs. Dulani and Aren sat together, eating while they talked in low voices. Dulani stiffened upon seeing them, but Aren grinned. 

“Are you done getting  _ reacquainted  _ with your mates?” ze teased.

Tavion was glad to see Aren's bluntness hadn't dulled. “Oh, I dunno. Could take a few days more,” he replied, playing to the innuendo. 

Aren mouthed 'days' as one might utter the name of a god, looking impressed. 

While Aren was occupied, Tavion looked at Dulani. He wanted to ask why zir had chosen to return to Vergate, a place that no doubt had bad memories, but it was too personal. In time, maybe Dulani would tell him zirself. Until then, he could only wander. 

“I just came to see if you had any questions or problems that needed addressing,” he said. The fact that he and Dulani had swapped roles didn't escape his notice. 

Aren held zir belly. “You have someone to help me with the birth?” 

“Of course,” Jormaine interjected, sounding so certain that Tavion didn't question him. It was a relief. 

Ze smiled. “Then I'm good.”

Dulani wasn't. “How will we earn our keep?” 

Tavion hadn't a clue. It struck him suddenly that he hadn't thought this out well at all. 

“We will help you acquire jobs,” Jormaine said, and Tavion was glad his lovers had accompanied him. 

Dulani's eyebrows raised in surprise. “Thank you.”

Tavion suddenly wondered if Jormaine would have found  _ him _ a job if he'd thought to ask.

“You were promised safety and security,” Adeleena said. “You'll find that we never fail to keep our promises.”

Dulani inclined his head. “Thank you,  _ Liry  _ Salas.”

Tavion couldn't remember introductions being made—which was really his fault—but Dulani apparently already knew who they were.

Aren's eyes, however, widened in shock. “You're  _ Litr  _ Jormaine Salas?” Without waiting for a reply, ze looked at Tavion. “Your mates are the Salases?” ze demanded. “No wonder you didn't care for the contest! I wouldn't either. Can you help me find two stunning Avvai to pamper  _ me?”  _

Tavion almost choked at zir bluntness. 

“Maybe focus on settling down before looking for a mate,” Dulani said dryly. 

Aren looked sheepish. “Sorry, Tav. Do you know how long until we're in Vergate?” 

He didn't. The intricacies of space travel had never been relevant in his life. It wasn't cheap, and the unknowns of the universe had always seemed scarier than remaining homeless on Vergate. 

At least there was comfort in familiarity. 

Thankfully, Jormaine answered. “Less than a day from this point.”

“If you need anything at all on the journey, just ask,” Adeleena added. 

Seeing an opportunity to exit, Tavion said, “Don't be afraid to ask for me.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and once they were back inside their room, Jormaine turned to him. “We have rooms to spare, but you'll do them no favors by letting them hide away on the estate.”

Tavion knew that but— “What about their safety?” 

“I'll ensure it,” was all Jormaine said. “What  _ you _ need to focus on is what you want the end goal of this shelter to be.”

Shelter. Was that the right word? Sanctuary? Refuge?  _ Haven.  _ “To give them—”  _ Freedom.  _ “—options.” 

“Then helping them acquire jobs and education will be necessary.”

True. To really give them options he had to help them navigate and fend for themselves. 

“If this is truly what you want to do, I'll handle the registration as a nonprofit organization,” Adeleena said. “And I'll help you spread the word of the services you intend to offer.”

Tavion was moved by their support. “Thanks.”

“It isn't entirely altruistic. Any child we have will be part Lum'a,” Jormaine said. 

And making Vergate better for Lum'a would make it better for their child—if and when they had one. Still, Tavion grinned. “Face it. You're doing a nice thing. You can fool Vergate with the badass act, but I've seen you feed yol cubs.”

Jormaine raised a brow. “Is that how you speak to your master?” 

Tavion gave him an innocent look. Relishing in the safety of being home in his lovers' company, he felt playful for the first time in a long time. “I dunno. I'll let you know when I see him.”

Adeleena laughed.

Jormaine growled, and Tavion yelped when he was picked up, hoisted over Jormaine's shoulder, and carried to the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're approaching the end! Just a prologue left to post. All thoughts/feelings/comments appreciated. Would you like to see more of this trio? Would you like to see more of Vergate? Let me know! I'll be publishing _this story_ on Amazon before the end of summer (after editing/adding some content), and I'd love your support! In the meantime, check out my books (also published on Amazon). There's links to 'em on my profile. Otherwise, keep an eye out for more stories here. I've got a few in the works.


	23. Epilogue

_ Two months later... _

 

Face buried in his hands, Tavion tried not to wonder how much longer it would be. Seven hours had already passed, and it had been two hours since they’d been given any news. The idea that no news was good news offered no comfort. 

He looked up and found Adeleena’s attention remained on the book in her hands. How she could  _ read _ at a time like this was unfathomable. He wished Dulani was here, but he’d been called away to the delivery room hours ago since he was the only one who, other than his mother, had ever attended a Lum'a birth.

Footsteps and the telltale sound of rustling feathers warned him of Jormaine’s approach—he must have just gotten off work early—but Tavion didn’t look up until a steaming cup of  _ tao _ was brought into view. Had Jormaine actually gone into the kitchen to get him a drink?  _ Stranger things have happened.  _

Tavion accepted it, took a cautious sip, and met Jormaine’s gaze. 

“I assume there’s been no news.” Jormaine looked down the hall to where the makeshift delivery room was located. Aren had been adamant that he wouldn't be delivering his child in a hospital, surrounded by strangers and danger. Jormaine had been uncharacteristically accommodating, setting up a room for the delivery and acquiring everything necessary for a home birth to be safe. 

“Nope,” Tavion confirmed, fidgeting with agitation. 

“I'm sure everything is fine,” Adeleena commented without looking up. 

Tavion made a frustrated sound and resumed burying his face in his hands.

Jormaine took a seat beside him on the couch, his closest wing brushing across Tavion’s back. “Aren is in capable hands.”

“I know.” 

He also knew that bad things seemed to happen just when everything was going right, and (for once) everything  _ was _ going right. 

Oh, life was still stressful, but he'd finally found his calling. Adeleena helped him set up New Horizons. It was a cliche name, but, as Adeleena pointed out, it was an apt description. She'd helped him flesh out his idea, helped him realize that although he'd set out to help Lum'a, he'd seen enough suffering to know it wasn’t limited to his species. She advised him to pick a single group to help, but how could he? There were homeless, victims of the illegal slave trade, those sold at the Auction House by their families, and many more.  

They'd just gotten officially registered as a nonprofit and were due to open in a few days—and then Aren had gone into labor. 

Aren who, along with Dulani, had decided their time would be best spent helping Tavion run New Horizons. It wasn't what he'd been expecting from them, but he was grateful to have their aid. Adeleena and Jormaine helped finance the upstart (and promised to help organize charities for future funds), but Aren and Dulani actually knew what it was like to need a second chance. 

Time dragged on, and the longer they waited, the more certain he became that something was wrong. 

Until the unmistakable sound of a wailing baby spilt the silence.

Tavion jumped to his feet, hope fluttering in his chest as he stared down the hall towards the delivery room. 

Crying was a good sign. He knew that, but he remained anxious until Esme appeared. 

Beaming brightly, she dipped her head and said, “Follow me.” 

Tavion hurried after her, but he didn’t miss the looks of affectionate amusement his lovers shared. As soon as he entered the delivery room, his eyes went to Aren who was in bed, a little ivory-blue skinned baby sleeping in zir arms. Dulani stood at zir side while Tavion’s mother and Esme slowly cleaned up the room.  

Aren smiled tiredly as Tavion approached the bed, looking utterly exhausted. He had a dozen questions, and Aren could probably tell because, without prompt, ze said, “I had a girl.”

The small patch of hair on her head was a shade lighter than Aren’s, and she was wrapped in a light blue blanket. They had obviously cleaned her up, but she would have been adorable anyway. “Is she supposed to be so…small?” he asked. 

She seemed especially tiny. Then again, what did he know about newborns? He'd never really interacted with them. Nor had he wanted to. 

Until now. 

“You were that small,” his mother commented from behind him. 

Tavion whipped around to fix her with a glare. This was the second time he'd seen her in a month—the most he'd seen her in years. There was still tension between them, but he knew his lovers hoped they would work it out. 

“Have you decided on a name?” Dulani asked, redirecting the conversation. Ze was good at that. Mediating. 

Tavion turned back to Aden who was failing to suppress a laugh at his expense. “Yes,” ze said. “Everyone, meet Neema.”

Tavion couldn't help but grin down at the newly named babe. “Hi, Neema.” 

Adeleena came to his side, gently gripping his arm. “She's absolutely precious.” The affection in her tone rivaled only the longing in her eyes. 

He knew this must be painful for her because it was painful for him. If he hadn't miscarried, they would have had a moment like this to look forward to very soon. As it was, he'd been on heat suppressants since he arrived home, but while looking down at little Neema, Tavion knew what he wanted. 

No one was ever prepared for the trials of parenthood, but he was ready to build a family with the man and woman he loved. Though he feared the heartache of another miscarriage, he knew they would get through it as they had every other obstacle. 

Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! If you're interested in supporting this story when it's published (soon), follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/AmeliaRMoore1) and/or join my facebook group, [Moore Fiction](https://www.facebook.com/groups/719402408517090/).

**Author's Note:**

> If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading! This is my first attempt at a story such as this. I love feedback - even critiques. Just be gentle! If you like what you see here, stick around. It's my hope that I'll be updating once a week (at least). If you're looking for more to read in the meantime, check out my profile! I have a few published books and more information can be found about them on <https://acelinwolf.wixsite.com/ameliamoore/books>. Try a free sample! :D


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